Harry Potter and the Malediction of the Deathly Hallows
by Amaterasu Kinesi
Summary: Almost 7 yrs since Voldemort's defeat, the yr 2005: Harry & Ginny; Ron & Hermione, are respectively 1st time expecting parents. Amid the excitement the Harry is made aware of a 'game changer' that he never saw coming. Though he's willing to come up with a plan to use what he's been given, it doesn't mean he'll act. That changes when he learns of Voldemort's last act of defiance.
1. Song and Feather of the Phoenix

**Harry Potter**

and the Malediction of the Deathly Hallows

By

_Amaterasu Kinesi_

* * *

Chapter One

**The Song and Feather of The Phoenix**

* * *

**...…**

* * *

_**Tuesday - March 15, 2005**_

* * *

******..….**

* * *

Mr. and Mrs. Potter, of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, first time expecting parents, didn't know it yet, but soon an unexpected but welcomed visitor would come knocking at the door of their peaceful residence and cause ripples in their peace (hopefully for the better). The visitor would offer Harry James Potter the opportunity of a lifetime in the form of the most unassuming object he could ever suspect possessing.

With hindsight, whatever Harry chose to do with the opportunity he would be given would make all the difference in his and the life of many in the Wizarding World. Only thing was, after having fought so mercilessly to vanquish Tom Marvolo Riddle and his Death Eaters and lost so many loved ones in the process, would Harry be willing to put at risk the happiness and peace he, alongside his wife and friends, have strived so fiercely to maintain, and just to act on a mere _possibility_?

Now the only war that waged in the peaceful Wizarding Community, almost seven years since the Boy Who Lived finally defeated the Dark Lord, was the one happening within Harry James Potter as he argued the pros and cons of following his heart or leaving things alone. But then, he would eventually figure, that course of action wouldn't be very Gryffindor of him now, would it?

_In Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart,_

_Their daring nerve, and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart_

* * *

...…

* * *

Somewhere within the busy grounds at Hogwarts, a phoenix was singing in a stricken lament of terrible beauty that Minerva McGonagall had heard only once prior to that afternoon. The same phoenix that now sang this lamenting tune had also sang it eight years and three months ago and had gone after, never to be seen or heard of again, just as its owner had left the world. That is, until now.

* * *

...…

* * *

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry's current headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, was a severe-looking witch with a stern face. In fact, she was stern in every sense of the word, she embodied the definition with her tall, brisk stature and posture, square glasses, and black hair tightly knotted atop of her head, sparsely streaked with white at the temples (the only sign that hinted at her advanced age or that time outwardly affected the witch at all).

Currently, as Minerva heard the first notes of the phoenix song above the chattering of students migrating across the grounds and hallways of the castle to attend their next lesson, after all these years, she had a strong suspicion of what it could signify. Hearing the song reminded Minerva quite abruptly that the mission her long dead mentor and friend had given her, back in June of 1993, still needed carrying out.

Of course, she had realized this all along, being the kind of witch that Minerva was, but only now came to the realization that she had been idle with this particular mission's disposition. Therefore, this could only mean one thing and as thus, she found it would be safe to assume that this was probably the sign she had been waiting for.

After all, she internally debated, Dumbledore had never told her to stop following his order, should he die, and she'd almost forgotten all about it with the passing of time. Clearly, time hadn't forgotten what Minerva almost had.

In fact, she was sure that the magic that bound and protected Hogwarts and its students hadn't forgotten what it had witnessed between its late headmaster and current headmistress. That much Minerva could count on –that's how ancient magic worked and it couldn't be cheated, or ignored in any way.

Walking briskly and purposefully down the corridor that lead to the hallway with the gargoyle that guarded the stairway leading toward her office, Minerva McGonagall confidently spoke the password, and hastened up the spiraling steps as the gargoyle moved aside to allow her entrance. Standing at the threshold leading into her office, Minerva glanced around at the many portraits of the previous headmasters and headmistresses of Hogwarts that hung on the walls of her circular office until her eyes settled on one.

Prolonging the inevitable, she avoided making eye contact with the resident of the one portrait she had unconsciously sought after and squared her shoulders. This specific portrait had hung on a golden frame over her desk for nearly eight years now and she often sought its counsel. After all, this precise painting was of a man she had known very well and had been honored to call her friend at one point.

It was the portrait of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.

With a sense of grim resignation and disquieted calm, Minerva McGonagall entered her office, removed her square glasses with slightly trembling hands as she walked toward her desk, and daintily placed them atop her desk. The finality of her actions wasn't lost on her. Headmistress McGonagall steeled herself with a great sense of foreboding and forced her eyes to meet the familiar twinkling blue eyes of Dumbledore's portrait.

For his part the old headmaster was looking peaceful and untroubled, his half-moon spectacles perched upon his crooked nose, as he stared back at Minerva with a knowing look that made it almost impossible for her to hold his gaze, and waited patiently for her to speak. However, stubborn as she tended to be, and feeling only partially ruffled, Minerva held Dumbledore's gaze.

While Minerva stared intently at the portrait of Albus Dumbledore a streak of silver light suddenly flashed around the room. There was a bang like a gunshot next, and the floor trembled. A second flash went off with a blinding burst of flames –Minerva along with several of the portraits that had been snoozing yelled in surprise– there was a screech, and a cloud of dust filled the air.

Crouching low and putting a hand over her mouth and nose to stop from coughing up the dust, Minerva watched the proceedings of a single, long golden feather float in the air until it finally settled and innocently laid atop Dumbledore's portrait just as the dust cleared. Above her desk Fawkes the phoenix soared in wide circles, singing softly, and, in a marvelous column of fire that consumed it, the phoenix was gone the next instant.

"It's time, isn't it?" Minerva tremulously asked the late headmaster in a hushed whisper. If she hadn't been sure about the meaning behind Fawkes's brief return before, now she was.

In answer, the old headmaster smiled jovially, interlocked his fingers on his lap, and nodded as if to say "I'm afraid so, my dear" but was quite at his leisure, and otherwise, finding the whole thing quite amusing –if the mad twinkle in his blue eyes was anything to go by. Memory served to remind her that it was.

For a moment, Minerva remained frozen with her wild pulse drumming deafeningly in her ears and, coming to her senses a moment later, she was in motion once again. Looking only slightly ashen, McGonagall stood to her full height once again and pulled her shoulders back. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, she knew it with bone deep certainty that this was the sign she had been waiting for.

This was it. Reaching for her glasses and perching them back on her nose, McGonagall nodded shrewdly and decisively. Delaying wouldn't change the fact that it was time... Time she acted and made well on her promise to Dumbledore.

One March mid-afternoon, in the year 2005, Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had finally been given the signal she had been anticipating and dreading for the past eleven years –the signal that told her it was time to act and carry out her unorthodox mission, once and for all. Finally, the moment had come for her to do her part and she knew what needed to be done. She wouldn't fail Dumbledore, she resolved, even if he weren't around to witness the task he'd given her be carried out.

Reaching that conclusion, McGonagall nodded to herself and steeled her resolve as she gathered oxygenated courage into her expanding lungs. Pulling parchment, a quill, and ink out of her drawers, Minerva sat at her desk and wrote a quick note to her Deputy Headmaster.

The note explained that she had pressing business to attend to and would be absent for an indefinite amount of time from that moment onward. Therefore, as Deputy Headmaster, she was entrusting him with the safety of all Hogwarts' students until she returned later that day. As a postscript, she also let him know that she could be reached by owl if absolutely necessary and to please inform the rest of staff.

Satisfied with the letter, McGonagall sealed it and stood. Searching for her wand from within the folds of her emerald-green robes, Minerva procured it, and tapping twice on the letter, sent it in search of the Deputy Headmaster. That done and with her wand still out, she approached the old headmaster's portrait with purposeful strides and pulled back the sleeves of her robes to keep them out of her way.

With a gentle but smart tap to the glass, Minerva's lips began moving fervently and she began to chant a surreptitious incantation under her breath. With well-practiced precision, Minerva began to scratch runes onto the surface of the glass in quick succession and her hand was almost a blur as she drew one Germanic alphabet letter on top of the other with minimal pause.

Each rune burned bright and dissipated soon after being drawn as McGonagall broke down and removed the wards she'd placed over the old headmaster's portrait so it could serve as the perfect hiding place to guard the object she had been entrusted to keep safe eleven years ago. Retracting her wand and safely placing it back within the folds of her robes, Minerva reached out a hand through the glass of Albus Dumbledore's portrait without meeting obstruction and the man within placed a small, but rather powerful object in the palm of her hand.

The moment the object made contact with her hand, Minerva felt its weight and let out the breath she'd been holding in a gust. Closing her fingers around the tiny, delicate object, Minerva distractedly mumbled her thanks to the wizard, pulled her hand out, and, still clutching the object within her grasp, turned away from the portrait and the man within without a backwards glance to walk away. That is, before she remembered her manners.

Only for a moment, McGonagall paused to address the portrait of Phineas Nigellus's, a clever-looking wizard with a pointed beard who was (thankfully) not pretending to sleep at the moment, as he was so fond of doing when he was needed, and without delay asked, "If you would be so kind, Phineas?"

"You want me to visit my other portrait?" said Phineas in a reedy voice (his eyes travelling around the room and focusing upon McGonagall's clutched hand with interest).

"That would be most helpful."

"And the message?"

"Just let him know I'm on my way… and that it is a matter of delicate nature. Dire."

"Delicate and dire in nature," repeated Phineas. "Anything else?"

"Be quick about it, won't you, please?" suggested Minerva.

Phineas barely managed not to scowl. "Yes, yes… very well…" he muttered fussily.

"Thank you."

Phineas slopped away into the frame of the portrait and disappeared from view as McGonagall resumed walking.

Making toward her fireplace, McGonagall pulled out her wand again and methodically said, "_Accio!_" to summon her cloak from its perch with a wave of her wand, as she gathered a pinch of glittering Floo powder out of the flowerpot she kept it in and stepped up to the dying embers of the fire, throwing the powder into the flames. With an instant roar, the fire turned into emerald green flames and rose higher than McGonagall, who stepped right into its warm breeze, spoke her destination clearly, "The Hog's Head Inn!" and vanished.

* * *

...…

* * *

"Minerva," muttered the tall figure of the Hog's Head's barman in greeting as he came in from the street, slammed the door behind him, and watched as McGonagall step out of his grate a moment later, dusting the excess soot from her emerald-green robes methodically. If her sudden apparition in his Inn surprised the man, he wasn't showing it. Instead, he opted not to talk and kept his questions under wrap.

"Aberforth," Minerva greeted brusquely, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice and failing. "Just passing through, don't mind me." Since Albus Dumbledore's passing, the man's uncanny resemblance to his late brother continuously unsettled Minerva whenever she saw him. "Need to Apparate and be on my way…"

"By all means," said Aberforth gruffly, looking pointedly from McGonagall to the door. With that, Minerva passed by Aberforth on her way into the street and for the second time in less than five minutes, the door to the Hog's Head was slammed behind her.

Once outside, Minerva turned on the spot into the crushing darkness.

* * *

******..….**

**..….**

* * *

_** A/N: **__Thank you for reading. Hope you have enjoyed this chapter. Until next chapter –_Chapter Two: **A Lesson In Transfiguration and Transmutation**_._


	2. Lesson In Transfig & Transmutation

**HARRY POTTER**

AND THE MALEDICTION OF THE DEATHLY HALLOWS

By

_AMATERASU KINESI_

* * *

CHAPTER TWO

**A LESSON IN TRANSFIGURATION AND TRANSMUTATION**

* * *

...

* * *

_**Tuesday - March 15, 2005**_

* * *

**...**

* * *

Hands trembling (one empty and the other clutching at a tiny, delicate golden object), Harry Potter sank heavily onto a well-worn, acid-green velvet armchair with the uncomfortable feeling that the four cherry wood walls of his handsome home office were pressing in on him and would crush him at any moment. Hysterical laughter bubbled up in his chest and Harry swallowed it down with difficulty, and unclenched his left hand as a cold sweat threatened to take over his suddenly fevered skin, which caused him to shiver violently under the influence of his momentary shock.

Letting out an incredulous gush of air that could barely be called a sigh from between his lips, Harry barely managed to swallow the groan of frustration that wanted to escape his throat with every word he tried to sputter through and couldn't come close to voicing. As he bowed his head, Harry gazed down unseeingly at the tiny, sparkling golden object that he held tethered in his right hand. Its very long, very fine and equally golden chain spilled harmlessly from between his fingers and rattled rhythmically where it hung while his hands continued to tremble.

Focusing, eyes of an Unforgivable _Avada Kedavra _green widened fractionally when his gaze landed on the palm of his right hand and Harry finally saw and understood what he held there. It was the instigator of his shock. But it was _impossible_…

Harry was sure his eyes were playing tricks on him and so he blinked and blinked again, trying to blink the image of the tiny, sparkling object away. The object in question, barely the circumference of his palm, remained.

Once Harry had realized this, the hand that held the object shook so violently that he almost dropped the tiny, delicate, golden object -and he would have, too, had its very long, very fine golden chain not gotten tangled between his fumbling fingers.

"I don't understand," he mumbled, flummoxed.

"There's really nothing to understand, Mr. Potter." Harry thought he might have heard someone say but he was too lost in his thoughts to pay the voice any mind.

While he choked on a breath, Harry barely managed to whisper, "A Time-Turner?"

"That is correct, Mr. Potter," the only other person in the room responded meekly in an abysmal attempt to keep impatience from creeping in.

Despite the speaker's quiet voice, Harry jumped at the sound of the intruding voice as if it had been a scream and his wand hand twitched as he switched the object on his right hand to his left to free his dominant hand. Reflexively, Harry's fingers closed around his wand to retrieve it from within his robes and then, pointed it in the direction of the intruder, as his head snapped up instinctively to meet the dark eyes and stern face of Minerva McGonagall at wand point.

Blinking at the witch's impassive face, Harry took a moment to process that McGonagall posed no threat to him, lowered his wand after a moment's hesitation, and returned it to his pocket. Though she had remained impassive with Harry's wand pointed right at her heart, Minerva's wary posture relaxed when he did and she took a cautious step in the younger wizard's direction.

Honestly, Harry had been so lost in thought that he had almost forgotten that his old Transfiguration Professor and head of house had also been in the room and so he was currently trying to process the reason behind her presence in his home. Right, he thought grimly, the bloody Time-Turner I'm currently in possession of…

Just like that, as he recalled them, Harry started piecing things together with a wry smile twisting up at the corners of his mouth. Fifteen minutes ago McGonagall had shown up, Time-Turner in hand, and looked uncharacteristically ruffled for such a stern witch. Before that, Phineas Nigellus's usually empty portrait had none too graciously brought news of her impending visit to Harry's attention, just as he had been getting home and detoxing from a long day at work by listening to the wireless in his office -where he now kept the blasted portrait.

Not five minutes later, Minerva McGonagall herself had been about to knock at his door when Harry opened the door and welcomed her into his home not knowing what was to come his way. Now Harry had to wonder if he should have answered the door at all…

Shaking his head, Harry met Minerva's concerned gaze once more and held it.

"This can't be right," Harry said. "It's impossible." The words were spoken slowly and without inflection. "Every last one of them was destroyed that night at the Ministry." And any further research toward their reconstruction delayed and then entirely abandoned, the Department of Mysteries was no longer allowed to dabble in matters of Time and its inner workings. "I should know. I was there when it happed." Harry swallowed thickly and urged McGonagall to see reason with his manic-looking eyes. "Bloody hell, I unwittingly helped in their destruction even!"

"Be that as it may, Mr. Potter," Minerva acquiesced, frowning with disapproval. "However, as you can see, obviously, this one still remains and has been in my possession for quite some time now."

"Since when?" Harry flinched; he hadn't meant to sound demanding.

Nonetheless, he understood one vital thing about the Time-Turner in his hand: Harry was in possession of something that was now _illegal._ Not that he was about to remind McGonagall of this little known fact but: Under the Regulation of Magical Artifacts, by order of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Harry was already committing a great offense against the Ministry of Magic, which he had vowed to serve.

If word of Harry personally handling this illicit object ever got out, given his position, one way or another, Harry could very well lose his job. The entire Wizengamot judges would summon and accuse him then and hold a full criminal trial to deal with the matter. The awaiting verdict would then dictate that Harry serve time in Azkaban-six months minimum.

"Nearly eleven years," Minerva said deliberately. "I've had it in my possession since the end of your third year at Hogwarts."

Harry looked down at the tiny, sparkling hourglass in his hand dubiously and switched it onto his other palm while he dried his sweaty left palm on the leg of his trousers. "Do you mean to say this is the _same_ Time-Turner Hermione and I -that is- the one Hermione used all of third year to get to her lessons?"

"The very same," replied McGonagall.

Her shrewd eyes held a question, as if she was debating asking Harry how he knew about Hermione's involvement with the Time-Turner. However, in the end, she opted for holding her tongue and for that, Harry was very grateful. He didn't think he currently possessed the mental capability to deviate from the current matter at hand to go down memory lane. Didn't think he could summon the strength to explain what he and Hermione had done to help save his godfather, Sirius, from going back to Azkaban and endure the Dementors Kiss by having him escape on Buckbeak the hippogriff that had been unjustly sentenced to death by the Ministry, and they had also rescued by going back in time.

"This is ridiculous," Harry muttered and pushed his glasses back along the bridge of his nose impatiently. "Didn't anyone from the Department of Mysteries notice that they had a missing Time-Turner and come looking for it when the school didn't return it?" Harry looked back up at McGonagall with gleaming green eyes and half formed questions brewing in his mind. "I mean, isn't it mandatory for each Time-Turner to be returned to the Ministry with the end of term?"

"It is," she responded primly.

"That's what I thought…" Harry nodded. "So how come you have this one?"

Minerva looked slightly uncomfortable by the question and for a moment Harry thought that she wouldn't answer at all, but then, to his surprise, she did.

"It so happens that Albus Dumbledore suggested I hold on to it indefinitely." McGonagall pursed her lips. "Always an enigma…"

"Dumbledore?" Harry's mind was racing… the old headmaster had been dead for nearly eight years come summer. There was no knowing what Dumbledore had been thinking at the time he'd made his suggestion. "Did he tell you why?"

"No," she said and looked at Harry as if he should know better. "I just trusted his judgment and accepted his discretion." At this point the stern witch had had enough of standing and decided to join Harry for a sit, and took the only available armchair, which also happened to be positioned across from Harry's with a coffee table in between. "Really, I had no other choice but to trust Albus and do as he suggested," she insisted. "He was rather insistent about his _suggestion_."

"Oh," Harry, at a loss for words, nodded as if he understood, "of course…"

"Means to an end, Harry," Minerva said quietly.

"So how did you manage to smuggle this Time-Turner out from under the Ministry's noses?"

Meanwhile, Harry still couldn't believe it. Could not come to terms with the fact that he was holding an actual Time-Turner in the palm of his hand. Surely, it had to be a hoax and strangely enough, McGonagall had suddenly turned into quite the jester. Staring intently at the feeble looking Time-Turner, Harry tossed it around and around between his hands in an attempt to come to terms with its impossible existence. Harry was sure that he would soon be disappointing his wife…

"You see, Harry, I think you tend to forget, so, allow me remind you." McGonagall looked at Harry with a teasing gleam shining through her bespectacled eyes. Feeling like a git, Harry blinked and waited for his so-called reminder to be voiced. "Before I became Headmistress at Hogwarts, did I not teach you everything you know about Transfiguration?"

"So you're saying…" Harry chuckled and couldn't help the flicker of a mischievous smirk that traveled across his lips, which matched Minerva's own impish smile. "Do you mean to tell me, Minerva," Harry asked slowly with an incredulous and simultaneously bemused smile upturning the corners of his mouth, "that you knowingly and _illegally_ turned in a phony Time-Turner? One that you personally Transfigured?"

"That's one way of putting it…" Harry shook his head, pleasantly surprised by the usually stern witch's disregard for the rules -she truly was full of surprises today. "Of course it required something a bit more complex than simple wand waving, incantation, and Transfiguration," McGonagall supplied mysteriously, voice slightly smug. "Though lacking in many ways, Harry, our Ministry of Magic isn't entirely incompetent, you know."

"Of course." Harry urged, intrigued, "Do tell, how did you do it then?"

"Do you know anything about Transmutations, Mr. Potter?" asked Minerva. Suddenly looking very much like she used to when in a classroom setting, she stood in front of Harry's desk imperiously and gazed at Harry inquisitively. This was Professor McGonagall, ready to enlighten Harry with an impromptu lesson, he understood and like any good student, Harry sat a little straighter in his armchair.

"Very little," Harry admitted, curiosity growing. Frowning in concentration as he tried to recall anything and everything he'd ever read on the subject, Harry pondered over his answer. "Just the gist of it, really. From what I gathered, it involves physics -changing one chemical object into another." Harry scratched the back of his neck self-consciously and shrugged, looking up at McGonagall with an embarrassed grimace. "Also, from what I've read… I understand that the term is usually applied in alchemy."

"That is correct. I'm quite impressed, Harry," Minerva said approvingly. "I see being out of school hasn't stopped you from studying up a bit." She was quite pleased to know that her once pupil had some knowledge on a subject that fascinated her. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say Hermione was finally rubbing off on you."

"Maybe a little," Harry chuckled. "But I'm a curious person and having Hermione for a life-long friend does help." "What can I say?"

"Ah…" McGonagall nodded sagely. "Now, that sounds more like you."

The truth was that, after the war had been over and Severus Snape's true role as an agent for the Light and the many omissions Dumbledore took to the grave had been revealed, Harry had made a silent vow to stop being mediocre. Thereafter, Harry had seen to it and taken steps to ensure that he would never again be seen as a victim of being kept in the dark-for his own good, supposedly.

Now, Harry actively pursued the key to any knowledge he desired to inquire after when brazen curiosity struck; a handy requirement needed in order to rectify that past negligence on his part. It also helped a great deal that it opened many doors for Harry in his profession as an Auror, making it possible for him to continue advance and improve ranks. Of course, Hermione had been more than supportive in this particular endeavor of his, to Ron's initial chagrin.

"Please, enlighten me and expand on the subject, Professor." Harry managed a genuine smile then, and added, "Or simply tell me what you did to trick the Ministry. Must be quite the tale."

Though Harry had begun to feel slightly less prone to panic or chuck the tiny hourglass out the window, he decided he needed _something _to do before he started doing just that. Getting to his feet, Harry began pacing beside his armchair as thoughts of losing his job fled from his mind.

"Very well…" Minerva went on, "First, let's go to the root of the word, which is Latin, naturally. In Late Latin, _transmutatuione_, which later became _transmutare_, simply means 'to change'."

"Right." Harry nodded, showing he was following.

"As you might already know," she continued, "during Alchemy, Transmutation is most commonly used to achieve the conversion of turning base metals (or lead) into gold or silver -something even Muggles have managed with perseverance. This is something that can be achieved with the use of a transfiguration circle, or stones." Minerva paused and asked, "With me so far, Harry?"

"Yes, Professor, so far, everything you've mentioned has fit into what little I've read on the subject."

"Well, there's also the conversion of one element or nuclide -a specific number of protons and neutrons- into another," Minerva continued before Harry could interrupt to ask what 'nuclide' meant or was. "This, of course, can be done either naturally or artificially."

"Artificially?" Harry interrupted, perking up. He thought he was beginning to understand. Trust Minerva to find a way to incorporate obsolete physic into a magical equation and use Transfiguration to bridge the two harmoniously. Thus foregoing the shortcomings found in the denoting natural science in general.

"Artificially," Minerva agreed. "Which, for a witch and or wizard, translates into _magically_."

"Is that what you did?"

"That is what I did." McGonagall nodded with a small, rare smile. "Through the complex combination of Transfiguration, which I used to provide the necessary 'charge', and a Transmutation circle -which I had to create specifically for the occasion- used as a circular accelerator to make use of the gaps," explained Minerva, "I was able to transfigure a simple metal object to resemble this here Time-Turner. Which in turn made it possible for me to transfer and have it possess qualities similar to the original object in the transition process. In the end, it gave the transfigured object a power boost that was enough to fool the Ministry's standard security check for magical componential analysis."

"That's bloody brilliant!" Harry acknowledged with no small measure of admiration as he grasped and understood the concept. "Basically, from what you just explained," he mused, "it sounded like you created a new element by adding a magical component within the nuclear reactor of…" Harry hesitated, searching for the right word and finally, unsure of himself, said, "a star…?"

"Yes," Minerva said, her tone slightly surprised as she peered at Harry with newfound appreciation. "This process is called transmagisynthesis."

"Bet they never saw that one coming…"

"One of my greatest achievements, I would say." Minerva looked slightly and pleasantly flushed due to the unexpected praise. "I got the idea from an essay I once did on Nicolas Flamel during my school years," she confessed. "Sadly, some branches of magic are vastly understated and others not explored enough, or at all." McGonagall sighed wistfully and shook herself, saying, "But it worked in my favor so I am not complaining."

"I have to say, I agree." Momentarily pausing on his pacing, Harry turned to fix his gaze on McGonagall and asked, "You've been holding onto this for this long… why are you showing it to me now?"

"I'm not _showing _you anything, Harry." Minerva corrected, "I'm _giving _it to you."

* * *

…

…

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_**A/N: **__Thank you for reading. Until next chapter -_Chapter Three: **Reality and Theory**_._


	3. Reality and Theory

**Harry Potter**

and the Malediction of the Deathly Hallows

By

_Amaterasu Kinesi_

* * *

Chapter Three

**Reality and Theory**

* * *

**…...**

* * *

**_Tuesday - March 15, 2005_**

* * *

**…...**

* * *

"Gi-gi-_giving _it," Harry stuttered, "t-to _me_?"

"Yes, as it was intended. Though," Minerva mused, "it wasn't until your sixth year that Dumbledore told me and I learned that I was, apparently, holding the Time-Turner for you, Harry."

"For me?" Harry croaked and as he met Minerva's gaze, she saw that his expressive green eyes were filled with shock he couldn't hide. "Dumbledore told you to give this to _me_? And now you're here… just like that, giving it to me?"

Suddenly, Harry felt like he was holding a ticking time bomb instead of a bloody Time-Turner and he wanted nothing more than to put some distance between his person and the tiny, golden hourglass. As it was, his fingers wouldn't unfurl and as thus, he couldn't let go of the cursed object.

"Why else would I be here?" Minerva arched a questioning brow at him, looking bemused. "Would I be giving you the Time-Turner if it weren't intended for you?"

"I did wonder," Harry answered sheepishly. "Of course I did… but I just thought that you were just trusting me with your secret…" Harry fidgeted. "Or something…"

"No, Mr. Potter." Minerva shook her head, smiling pityingly at him. Harry suddenly felt like he was eleven years old again and late for his first ever Transfiguration lesson –nervous, excited, and completely lost. "Albus specifically wanted me to give you this Time-Turner when the time came."

"When the time came?"

"For you to use it, of course."

"And you think _now _is that time?" Harry asked, aghast, and protested, "But why?"

"I believe his exact words were, 'I'm so glad you held on to that, Minerva. Our young Mr. Potter might be in need of it after all. I have it on good authority. When the time is right, of course, Minerva. You must wait for the opportune moment and not a moment before.'" Harry felt McGonagall's comforting touch on his shoulder and tried to smile but failed abysmally. "And then he looked ever so curiously at his blackened hand…"

There was a pause in which Harry couldn't get his tongue to cooperate with him, as he felt a headache coming on. Meanwhile, McGonagall got to her feet once again and began pacing in front of him, lost in the memory of her conversation with Dumbledore eleven years ago and then the one three years after.

"Naturally," continued Minerva, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence, "I decided to trust Albus, given that his guesses were usually correct. For as long as I knew him, he was always insightful."

"So, Dumbledore said that _I_ would need it?"

Frustrated with the mindboggling situation, Harry raked frantic fingers through his naturally disheveled black hair and stared, distrusting, at the tiny hourglass he was still clutching in his unsteady hand. Seeing as he was getting nowhere with his pacing, Harry sat down once again on his acid-green armchair.

"Yes, he was of that opinion at the time, Harry."

Harry sighed heavily and realized in that moment that he would have rather looked _anywhere_ but at McGonagall. Due to this inability, Harry focused his gaze on the coffee table in front of him and hoped that the witch wouldn't take his rude behavior to heart. It wasn't McGonagall's fault that he felt trapped and out of control, Harry reasoned, not really.

Minerva cleared her throat. "Therefore," she divulged, "I kept it until now."

"Pray tell, what did Professor Dumbledore expect me to do with this Time-Turner, once you held up your end of the bargain and gave it to me, as you've just done?" Harry asked quietly, his need to know constricting his air supply. "Did he tell you _that_ much at least?"

Minerva sighed heavily and lightly touched the tips of her fingers from each hand to her temples to make sure that not a hair had come undone from her tight bun; a nervous habit she had acquired from youth and had yet to be rid off. Harry was getting angry and rightfully so, in Minerva's opinion. She really couldn't blame the boy, given the circumstances and the burden he had to carry. Admittedly, Minerva didn't think she would have handled the situation any better, or different, had she been the one in Harry's position.

"Albus never fully explained…" Minerva admitted with a heavy heart and her brow furrowed in a rare show of demonstrative irritation that helped Harry calm down just a tad. "However, what he did say was that when the time came –when your need for it manifested itself– I would know, without doubt, and I was to give it to you. And so here I am, giving it to you, Harry."

"How did you know that now was the right time?" Harry finally asked after a moment of stewing in silent frustration and maybe a little indignant resignation. Agitated once more, Harry stood and began pacing as Minerva watched his proceedings with a wry twist to her thin lips. "_When_ did you know?"

"Today. After I found a phoenix feather lying atop where I'd set up its hiding place. Fawkes's phoenix feather, to be exact, but that was only after his song had been heard all over Hogwarts." McGonagall smiled ruefully as she said this and since it was the last thing Harry had expected her to do, his pacing came to an abrupt halt as he forced himself to meet the witch's sage, dark eyes. "Apparently, Mr. Potter," she said, "someone or _something_ out there and out of our control seems to think that we are in dire need of a little more time. Naturally, I came right over to provide you with the means to acquire more time."

"But why _now_?" Harry wondered.

"Your guess is as good as mine, I must confess, Harry," Minerva answered, looking thoughtful. "Perhaps, there's something we missed… something lurking once again in the shadows and biding its time…" Shuddering at her own words, McGonagall glanced at Harry with a helpless expression on her usually impassive features. "We can only hope that isn't the case."

"But I–" Harry sat once more on his previously vacated armchair and feeling exasperated, once again, asked, "What did Dumbledore expect me to do with a _bloody_ Time-Turner?"

"I'm sure you'll figure something out–"

"Even after he's dead, the man keeps throwing me for a loop… throwing me riddles instead of giving answers." Harry mumbled the last part under his breath. Speaking to Minerva once again, he said, "Minerva, any way I approach this, _I still don't understand what Dumbledore wants me to do with this._"He sighed. "Can you make any educated guesses?"

"I don't know, Harry…"

"Why would he think going back a few hours would make a difference now?" Harry mused aloud. "It's already been seven years since I defeated Tom, so what's the use? Maybe if I'd had it during the war… But, no, everything's set and done."

Harry felt sick just thinking about it. In fact, he needed to stop thinking about it. Right. _Now. _It wasn't wise or prudent for him to get caught up thinking about 'what ifs'. Not now that everything was set and done, he refused to entertain the thought.

Merlin, he was going to be a father in another _two_ short months! He didn't have time or the luxury for 'what ifs' scenarios. Harry was an Auror, after all. As an Auror his job was to force others to see the error of their ways and pay for the consequences of their actions by facing reality.

Right now, Harry's reality depicted several things: That Harry had lost both his parents at a very young age; that he had seen and survived horrors that not many his age had; fought to bring an end to the same war that he had lost his parents, all thanks to a sociopath who had given him no choice in the matter and brought the fight to him at the age of one; at a great price he defeated evil and lost many loved ones in the process –and so had everyone else, too.

Harry's reality also dictated that he was bound by recurring nightmares to revisit his many moments that he had tried in vain to forget, for the sake of his sanity. The worse part: They weren't really nightmares. Just memories of innocence lost and darker times that he had to live with and get over. Thankfully, his wife understood Harry better than he understood himself, given that Ginny had a few demons of her own to overcome, and was patient with him when Harry woke her in the middle of the night with one of his many revisits.

"How are a few hours going to help anyone?" Given McGonagall's silence, Harry raised a questioning brow at the Headmistress and pressed, "It _is _a few hours, right, Professor McGonagall?"

Looking rather sheepish, McGonagall uncharacteristically fidgeted as Harry stared her down and, avoiding his gaze, answered, "Actually…"

"Yes? Is there something you've forgotten to mention?" Harry pressed, his heart beating a tattoo against his chest.

"I might have accidentally changed that aspect of its design via process of Transmutation." Minerva hastened to explain, "As I stated before, I was aiming to _duplicate _the Time-Turner's power onto the transfigured object. However, during the transition, I ended up _extracting _a portion of the original object's powers instead and transferred those powers right into the transfigured one." Minerva hesitated and pursed her lips, then she very quietly said, "The results were inconclusive for both objects, but I was instantly made aware that what transpired during the transfer ended up giving each object varying side effects."

At a total loss for words, Harry just gaped and stared at Minerva McGonagall unblinking and without really processing if he was actually awake or asleep.

"Given the form of extraction that occurred during the Transmutation and the charge required for it to work, the most logical supposition I could derive from gave me the confidence to surmise and later confirm that the original Time-Turner now has a bit of a power boost to it," Minerva concluded with a long-suffering sigh. Almost gurgling in his attempt to swallow, Harry blinked rapidly. "An easy mistake," she added quietly, blushing under Harry's scrutiny.

"Er, sure…" Harry agreed when he finally found his voice box and managed to get his tongue to cooperate. As a given, his voice was slightly hoarse. Closing his eyes, Harry inhaled sharply as he prepared to ask the one question he was now dreading to ask but had to ask. "In hindsight," Harry questioned, opening his eyes again, "just how far back does it go then?"

"It hasn't been tested…" McGonagall hesitated, saying, "However, Albus theorized that the Time-Turner could probably take the one in use of its power as far back as ten years per full turn, and five at a quarter turn in its current state. All guess work, I'm afraid."

"A _decade_?" Harry repeated. Dread gripped at Harry's heart as his mind raced to catch up with the possibilities flashing behind his closed lids. "That's, that's remarkable, that is… How did he reach that conclusion if it hasn't been tested?" he wondered. "That's a lot of guesswork, in my opinion."

McGonagall explained, "His hypothesis was based on how the Transmuted and Transfigured Time-Turner reacted in retrospect. That one he ended up testing and it worked. Professor Dumbledore managed to go back in time just a few minutes the first time and about an hour the second time. It's not much to go by, but–"

"So, in theory he _thought _the Time-Turner would now go back in time five to ten years at a time, just based on what?" Harry interrupted and asked acridly, "The educated guess he could cook up from what he saw the few minutes and then the hour or so the decoy Time-Turner sent him back in time to? That's not, 'not much', Professor! That's _nothing_ to go on by!"

"Well, when you put it like that–"

Suddenly, his mouth felt really dry and Harry felt like he really needed a drink… "Kreacher," Harry croaked, interrupting whatever Minerva was about to argue his remarks with.

There was a loud crack, and a house-elf appeared, with a snout for a nose, giant bat's ears, and enormous bloodshot eyes, crouching on the immaculate office and covered in grimy rags. "Master Harry Potter, sir," Kreacher spoke, eyeing Harry with indifference where there used to be deepest loathing.

After nine years, the pitiable creature had resigned itself to the fact that Harry was its Master and now dealt with his displeasure in the matter by muttering away from its Master's listening ears. Otherwise, he was not allowed to say anything about 'blood traitors' or 'Mudbloods' in the Potters' household. However, the creature was treated kindly by its masters and mostly continued to work in the kitchens at Hogwarts, unless the Potters' needed him at home. Mostly the house-elf returned to Number Twelve to sleep, otherwise.

"Anything to drink, Minerva?"

"A glass of water would be welcomed."

"Right." Harry licked his dry lips and turned to address the house-elf. "Kreacher, please, bring Minerva and myself a glass of water each."

The house-elf bowed until the tip of its nose touched the polished wood floor and, with another loud crack, vanished. In the meantime, the witch and wizard remained in companionable silence as they waited for the house-elf's return, each lost in thought. A moment later, Kreacher reappeared, handed Minerva and Harry their respective glass of water, and, once thanked, vanished once again.

"As I said before, Harry, it hasn't been tested but that is what Albus and I believed. If you look closer at the hourglass, you'll notice that the sand is now equal parts gold and black, as well as white," pointed out Minerva, before taking a sip of her water. "However, it shouldn't be unstable –just slightly unpredictable– as proven by the replica's instability. Nothing a few precautions can't fix."

"How does the color of the sand affect the effectiveness of the Time-Turner?" Harry asked curiously and lifted the tiny hourglass to his eye-level, examining the sand within. Minerva was right, the sand was all three colors. "And just how unpredictable are we talking here?" Only half joking he asked, "I'm not going to be sent back to ice age if I attempt to use it, am I?"

"In theory?" said McGonagall, ignoring the last part. "Well, from what I know about Time-Turners, the color of the sand is mostly gold and white, but can often have deposits of black sand. The black sand is a _placer deposit_, an accumulation of valuable minerals formed by gravity separation during sedimentary processes."

"And what does that mean?" Harry asked, completely lost but eager to learn and understand.

"Harry," McGonagall sighed. "I'm saying that black sand is mostly magnetic, due to its mixture of iron oxides, and it is therefore altered by the presence of a white alteration process." Minerva smiled a familiar closed-lips smile as Harry's confusion continued to grow. "Due to this alteration, the sands coexist but there is no _solid_ solution. Therefore, the possibility of you traveling back in time, say, a decade is not only possible but very probable, due to the gravity separation."

"So… the black sand is a tether of sorts?" Harry wondered, only slightly beginning to comprehend.

"Exactly!" Minerva nodded. "Picture it this way if you will: The present time is the accumulation of valuable minerals formed by current events that can be considered as 'gravity separation' –those would be similar to events that have already occurred– during sedimentary processes, which can be a representation of the past."

"Like a riff of sorts?" Harry interjected uncertainly.

"Precisely like a rift!" Minerva enthused, "You see, Harry, it is all in its magnetic quality, which allows the user's will and desire to transport them back in time a little further with the help of the Time-Turner's original design."

"My _will_?" Harry's head was spinning!

"Furthermore," Minerva continued as if Harry hadn't spoken, "it is wise to conclude that, due to its instability, it would be imperative to your survival to combine the use of the Time-Turner with something that will remain stable, or possibly stabilize its powers for you without altering anything else."

"Like some sort of spell… or diagram?"

"Hmm," Minerva hummed thoughtfully. "A diagram… Now, I wonder why that didn't occur to me foremost." Minerva continued to mutter to herself, pacing in place, "That could work… _possibly_… However, the continuum hypothesis might present a problem…" But, lost as he was in his spiraling thoughts, Harry was no longer listening. "Alchemy… yes, it will consist of _extensive_ research… certainly…"

"If I use this… I still don't know the 'when'. What was Dumbledore thinking?" Harry asked, more of himself than McGonagall as he grabbed his glass of water shakily and gulped from it thirstily. "There's nothing I can think of changing… except…" –Harry shook his head as he thought of his parents and a long buried longing began to blossom– "But no, to do so would be beyond selfish."

"What do you mean, Harry?" Minerva asked kindly, halting her pacing. "Do you have a time in place coming to mind?"

"You can't give this to me." Harry shook his head, horrified by his own thoughts and would-be plans. "I can't use it." Harry nodded, coming to a conclusion and said, "You should just take it back with you, lock it up, and leave it to be forgotten right where you've been keeping it for the past eleven years."

"If I may," Minerva interjected. "Albus held you in high esteem, Harry. He believed, as do I, that you'd always find a way to do the right thing with what you've been given and make the most of it."

"But Minerva, nothing can come–"

"No, listen, Harry," interrupted McGonagall again. "Albus left this Time-Turner in my confidence. He made me promise that I would give it to you, when the time was right, not knowing himself when the time would present itself but knowing it would." Minerva took a deep breath before continuing, "That time is now. So you keep it."

"I can't possibly…" Harry began to refuse again, quite adamantly, but was interrupted once more.

"Harry, I'm not saying you should use it," Minerva pacified kindly. "Merlin only knows what Dumbledore was thinking…" McGonagall shook her head grimly. "I'm just saying you should now be the one to keep it. Hide it somewhere safe and use it at your discretion –or not. Whatever you decide. I'm sure something will come to you."

"But I don't even know where –_when _the right time to go back to would be… There are too many moments to choose from!" Harry asked, exasperated, "If it were you, Minerva, what year or moment would you go back in time to change?"

Minerva McGonagall thought for a moment and mulled over the question before slowly and quietly answering, "A time of innocence."

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**…...**

**...…**

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**_A/N:_**_ Thank you for reading. Until next chapter –_Chapter Four: **A Worthy Goal**_. _

_(Oh, yes, I forget to mention: For those who spear a few moments of their time to review, you'll get a Sneak Peak into the next chapter for your troubles each time.) _


	4. A Worthy Goal

**Harry Potter**

and the Malediction of the Deathly Hallows

By

_Amaterasu Kinesi_

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Chapter Four

**A Worthy Goal**

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******..….**

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**_Tuesday - March 15, 2005_**

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******..….**

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"Innocence…" Harry repeated, now feeling more confused than ever.

As Harry thought about it, catching movement out of the corner of his eye, he placed the tiny hourglass carefully into the front pocket of his trousers for safe keeping and glanced curiously toward the door as he simultaneously placed his glass of water on the coffee table next to his armchair. That familiar warmth that always overtook Harry when Ginny either entered a room or was near enough for him to touch now flowed through his slightly chilled limbs and, almost instantly, he felt awash with calm.

And sure enough, when Harry turned his attention fully toward the door, there he found his pregnant wife and godson looking in. Ginny was standing in the hallway uncertainly, just beyond the door with her flaming red hair styled in a loose braid, a hand caressing her swollen belly soothingly, and a fidgeting Teddy at her side.

It still amazed Harry that, after nearly four years of marriage, she still affected him so strongly by merely standing across the room from him. When Harry caught her gaze, he noticed that she had a questioning look of apprehension aimed at him in the depth of her brown eyes while trying to figure out what was going on.

"Everything all right, Harry?" Ginny Potter asked glancing with concern between her husband and the Headmistress, standing just beyond the office door in the hallway. "Minerva, I hadn't realized you'd come to pay us a visit. Look, Teddy, say hello to Professor McGonagall."

"Hello, Professor," Teddy greeted shyly.

"Hello, Teddy," Minerva greeted him warmly. Teddy beamed. "Sorry about not greeting you earlier, Ginny." McGonagall explained, "Harry and I got a little sidetracked… but I must say, you look radiant. How much longer before you're due?"

"Thank you, McGonagall," Ginny beamed just as warmly, looking radiant indeed. "Well, Hermione is due the first week of April and I'm due the second or third week of March."

"That's so great, that the both of you are so closely due. It'll make it easier for the kids to become as close as the parents."

"That was our thinking," admitted Ginny.

"I imagine you're looking forward to finally being able to hold your baby?" Minerva asked conversationally. After all, these were too of her previous students who had married and were now journeying into parenthood; she felt pride upon looking at them and seeing how far they'd come.

"Yeah," Harry interjected. "We're so ready for the baby to come. Harry stood and walked the short distance to the office door, seeking the comfort of Ginny's nearness.

"Yes, please!" Ginny groaned and rubbed her swollen belly pleadingly. "I can't wait for the back aches and swollen everything to be over with… And I'm definitely looking forward to the day when I can look down and see my feet again!"

"I bet," McGonagall sympathized with a suppressed chuckle.

"If you'll excuse me a moment, Minerva," Harry said. "I need to have a word with my wife."

"But of course," Minerva said, waving him on. "I'll just be over here waiting."

"I appreciate it."

"You must come visit me soon, Minerva," Ginny pleaded. "Being surrounded by men can be so tedious." Ginny glanced pointedly between Harry and Teddy who both had the grace to look abashed.

"Oh, I most certainly will," promised McGonagall, amusement clear in her tone.

"Gin, don't you think you should get back in bed?" Harry asked his wife worriedly as he stood before her and tenderly began stroking her swollen belly, once Minerva was out of earshot. "You're supposed to be in bed rest the–"

"Harry James Potter," Ginny said warningly and spat, "do not talk to me about bed rest! I am _pregnant_ with your baby, not an _invalid_!"

Harry flinched at the decibel in Ginny's voice and marveled at how much she sounded like her mother just then, with hands on either side of her hips and staring him 'down' even though she's a head shorter than him. Glancing apologetically at an amused McGonagall, Harry pulled Ginny in close and embraced her as best he could with her baby bump between them.

For her part, McGonagall decided to stay out of it and watched the scene unfold from afar with fondness. She was sure their kids were going to be a handful, if Teddy Lupin was anything to go by. He was already exhibiting marauding tendencies, just like his father before him and McGonagall found that she was looking forward to overseeing his progress at Hogwarts.

"Me too!" Teddy giggled and joined in the impromptu family hug after Harry gave him the okay with a nod and an easy smile. The two adults chuckled as Teddy tried to wriggle between them and, chagrined, found that he couldn't because of the baby.

"I'm just trying to look out for you, Gin, and the baby," Harry pacified, running circles with his hands over Ginny's back. At his touch, Ginny leaned into him and sighed as she felt most of the fight go out of her as Harry dissipated some of the tension. "I love you, remember? I'll always want what's best for you."

"I know. I love you too." Ginny rested her forehead against Harry's chest feeling silly. "I'm sorry for being irritable, Harry, I'm just so tired of being in bed and doing nothing… besides," she huffed, "Teddy, the baby, and I got hungry and we thought we'd come and check if you wanted to eat with us." Lifting her head from Harry's chest, Ginny glanced up at her husband to meet his greet eyes. "Do you?"

"Yeah! Come eat with us!" pleaded Teddy, tugging at the sleeves on Harry's robes enthusiastically.

"I'm sorry," he said contritely, "I would love to but I can't right now."

"But why…" Teddy's protest trailed off as his eyes landed on the Professor and his eyes lit up, as he understood. His godfather was trying not to be rude to his guest. Teddy thought he had a solution for that! "The Professor can eat with us too." He pouted. "I'll share, promise."

Harry chuckled at his godson's antics and ruffled his hair fondly as he explained, "That's very gentlemanly of you, Teddy, but that's not it. Professor McGonagall and I have a few things to finish discussing before she has to leave. That's why we can't join you."

"Oh…" Teddy was disappointed; he had no idea how offer a solution to that.

_Innocence, _the word repeated itself in Harry's mind as he glanced between Ginny and Teddy as she reassured him that Harry would join them once he was done discussing grown-up things with Professor McGonagall and placed a kiss to the top of his brown locks. Teddy didn't think he liked Professor McGonagall very much just then, he really, really wanted his godfather to see the new nose he had learned to transform his into while at the table.

Almost in a trance, Harry continued to watch his wife and godson interacting and felt awed by the simplicity of their bond. From her interactions with Teddy, Harry knew that Ginny would make a great Mum once their child came into the world and it gave him a great sense of serenity.

"Tell you what," Harry began and crouched in front of Teddy, "once I'm done here and you guys are all fed, we'll go have ourselves some ice cream." Teddy's eyes lit up. "What do you think, Teddy? Do we have a deal?"

Teddy looked up at Ginny and tugged at her arm as he jumped in place, waiting to see if she thought that would be okay to do. Smiling fondly at him, Ginny nodded at the wide-eyed boy. Looking extremely relieved, Teddy turned to Harry and took a big breath before replaying. He was so excited!

"Yes!"

"Yes?"

"_Yes_!"

"Very well then, we have a deal," Harry agreed. "Now, the deal isn't sealed until we shake on it though." Teddy stared at his godfather with wide-eyed despair before he realized what he had to do and stretched out his hand for Harry to shake.

"Now we have a deal?" Teddy asked worriedly.

"We do." Teddy's smile lit up the room at Harry's confirmation and his eyes momentarily glowed amber before going back to the same shade of green as his godfather's he had opted for that day.

"Did you hear him, Ginny?" Teddy gushed. "We're gonna have ice cream later!"

"Yes, I heard him," Ginny chuckled. "The baby and I can't wait!"

Teddy made a funny face at Ginny; She said things like that a lot and he still didn't get how the baby could want anything or how she knew when it was inside her belly and couldn't talk _at all_. Therefore, he couldn't help but think that Ginny was being funny when she talked like that.

"Gin, do you need me to run out for anything before I get back to McGonagall?"

"No, we're good." Ginny turned her attention from Teddy to Harry and smiled gratefully at her husband's thoughtfulness but wasn't fooled. She was certain something was going on and she promised herself she would get to the bottom of it once McGonagall was gone. Something serious enough to put that haunted look back in her husband's green eyes…

"How's our boy doing?" Harry inquired after their baby.

"The baby's been on a frenzy all afternoon," Ginny answered and inhaled as she felt him move and kick. "There he goes again, moving around so much that I just haven't been able to get comfortable."

"I felt that one," Harry said, his tone awed.

"I want to feel! I want to feel!" Teddy was really excited for this baby to come; he'd be the best big brother ever and show the baby how to be a big boy like him. "I feel him! I feel him!"

"So do I," muttered Ginny, gingerly touching her ribs. "It's a miracle I don't have bruises all over."

I'll let it go for now, Ginny decided. Knowing very well that Harry kept no secrets from her and he would talk to her about what was going on between him and McGonagall when he was ready. She could wait patiently until then.

"You'll let me know if you do need help, right?" Harry asked in all seriousness. When Ginny nodded, Harry embraced his wife and godson as McGonagall stepped further into the office to give the Potter family a moment of privacy. Giving wife, baby bump, and godson a kiss each, Harry suggested, "Gin, why don't you guys go eat now?"

"Is there something I should know?" Ginny asked as she ignored the clear dismissal and eyed him warily.

"Once we're finished here," Harry promised, "I'll tell you what's been going on. It's… I need to wrap my head around it first. Then we'll talk."

"You better, Mr. Potter," said Ginny before pecking his lips with hers soundly (as Teddy protested with a rather obnoxious '_eeewww_!'). "I wouldn't want to hex the father of my unborn child but I won't hesitate to do so. Not if it'll get you talking."

"I'll keep that in mind." Smiling, he added, "You're amazing, you know that?"

"I know," Ginny answered and gave her husband a lingering kiss on the lips (Teddy looked away and covered his eyes). "And I love you too."

"I know."

"What about me!" Teddy asked, pouting and feeling slightly ignored.

"We both love you very much," Harry assured him and hugged him, "But you already know that, don't you?" Teddy beamed and nodded, reciprocating the sentiment. Harry shook his head, chuckling. "You little tyke."

"Well, time for us to be on our way…" Ginny stretched her back, wincing slightly. In order to keep from telling his wife to go back to rest and just call Kreacher to bring her some food, Harry bit his lower lip and tried to keep the worry he felt from showing in his eyes. "Just remember you've been warned, Potter."

"I will."

"Come on Edward Remus Lupin," Ginny sighed dramatically and offered the young 'un her hand, "let's go and feed ourselves before our stomachs start eating itself."

"It can't do that!" Teddy protested incredulously and took Ginny's hand to help her down the stairs.

"Of course it can't," Ginny agreed teasingly, "because we won't let it!"

"Yeah! We won't let it!" Teddy looked down at his stomach and frowned worriedly. "You hear that tummy…?"

"I'm sure it heard you," Ginny assured him, giggling and patting his head consolingly. Looking grateful, Teddy smiled with relief. "So, what should we eat…?"

Harry smiled saucily after his retreating wife and took a moment to admire the enticing sway of her hips, stretched delectably to accommodate their growing child, before schooling his features. Knowing that he had a decision to make, Harry turned back resolutely to face McGonagall and the matter at hand –the Time-Turner and the witch that had kept it safely for him, apparently.

* * *

...

* * *

Upon re-entering the room, Harry found McGonagall at the very center of his office and waiting for him. Taking a moment to organize his thoughts, Harry walked back to his previously vacated armchair and stood behind it, his hands gripping the backrest.

"Minerva," Harry began, silently shutting the office door behind him, "did Dumbledore happen to mention anything else when he asked you to hold the Time-Turner for me? Anything at all?"

Quietly thinking, Harry found himself strategically formulating a plan that was quickly taking form in his mind. It wouldn't be simple and it would require hours of research and more hours than he was willing to spare away from his family but Harry was beginning to realize, it would be inevitable to forget about the Time-Turner otherwise.

Minerva frowned, thinking. "He said that you'd have two choices –both right– but the better of the two would make all the difference." Sounding slightly amused, Minerva added, "And he might have mentioned something about you being the better man and sometimes a little too selfless for your own good."

That simple sentence conjured up an image in Harry's mind of a small, maimed creature trembling while whimpering and thumping under a chair and beyond his help… It had been beyond his help then, but was it still beyond his help _now_?

_"Of house-elves and children's tales, of love, loyalty, and innocence, Voldemort knows and understands nothing." _His old headmaster had told Harry once. _"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love. By returning you may ensure that fewer souls are maimed, fewer families are torn apart. If that seems to you a worthy goal, then we say good-bye for the present."_

Of course, Harry knew that his old headmaster had been infuriating in many ways, specially in the way he provided more questions than he did answers –even after the man lay six feet under. But Harry had never expected that Dumbledore had been giving him clues even when he hadn't been 'not-quite-dead'.

_We say good-bye for the present… _

"Minerva, I think I know…" Harry licked his lips nervously and took another sip from his water. "I think… yes… I think I've solved the issue of 'when'…"

"When?" McGonagall asked, surprised and a little apprehensive.

"Also, I think I know _how_, but…" Harry shook his head as his mind raced ahead, formulating a plan without even realizing he was doing so. "I'll need your guidance and advice with something else first. And I think Hermione…" Harry nodded, "yes, I think she will be eager to assist as well with what I have in mind."

"Why don't you Floo her and ask her to step in?" Minerva suggested. "I'll help, whichever way I can."

"No." Harry shook his head. "This is something that needs to be well thought out and as such, I need to discuss it with my wife," he added, grimacing. "I won't do anything without her consent. I won't jeopardize my marriage chasing after… I won't jeopardize my marriage, period."

"I think that would be wise," agreed McGonagall. "I will leave you then. I've intruded upon your hospitality long enough." She rose to her feet.

"Not at all, Minerva," Harry said dismissively. "You're a friend and always welcome in my home."

"Thank you, Harry," Minerva said warmly. "Even so, I must return to the school. Would it be possible for me to make use of your fireplace?"

"Of course, Minerva."

"You will owl me if you need anything, won't you, Mr. Potter?" urged McGonagall as she gathered a pinch of Floo powder and threw it into the fire.

"I won't hesitate to do so," Harry promised.

Satisfied and with a final good-bye, Minerva McGonagall stepped into the green flames of Harry's fireplace and vanished in a roar of emerald green flames. Alone once again, Harry now only had his turbulent thoughts for company until he could organize them enough to express and vocalize them for his wife's benefit.

Harry reasoned there was no harm in planning as long as he didn't act. And as far as Harry was concerned, that's all his planning would amount to –a plan of action that he wouldn't use but would have, just in case...

Taking a seat, Harry buried his face in his hands and unconsciously waited for Ginny and Teddy to come find him again. Meanwhile, he was thinking of a heartbroken woman who had been expecting and hadn't had the strength of will or strength to live for her unborn child. As Harry thought about this woman, his plan solidified and he knew what he needed to do but not where to start.

Actually, Harry thought, I do know where to start… Raising to his feet and walking toward a cabinet he kept beside the door, Harry bent over it. When Harry straightened up, he was holding a shallow stone basin etched with odd markings around its rim.

A moment later, Harry strode over to his desk and placed the Pensieve upon it. After a moment's hesitation, Harry put his hand in his pocket and pulled out his wand. Staring into the Pensieve, Harry touched the tip of his wand to his temple and withdrew it, so that a long, silver thread of memory came away too, clinging to the want tip. The memory stretched, longer and longer, until it broke and swung, silvery bright, from the wand. Harry lowered it into the Pensieve where it coiled, then spread, swirling like gas. He lowered his wand to his side with a trembling hand, bowed over the Pensieve, and felt his feet leave the office floor… Harry fell through darkness and landed in Albus Dumbledore's office nine years earlier in the year 1996.

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******..….**

******..….**

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**_ A/N: _**_Thank you for reading. Hope you have enjoyed this chapter as well as the last (if not more). Until next chapter –_Chapter Five: **The Heart of Number Twelve**_._


	5. The Heart of Number Twelve

**Harry Potter**

and the Malediction of the Deathly Hallows

By

_Amaterasu Kinesi_

* * *

Chapter Five

**The Heart of Number Twelve**

* * *

**...…**

* * *

**_Tuesday - March 15, 2005_**

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******..….**

* * *

Ginny Potter and Edward 'Teddy' Remus Lupin had just finished eating their late lunch when there came a knock at the door of Number Twelve. Suppressing a groan, Ginny and Teddy exchange a look, sitting across from each other. Getting the door involved standing and walking, something Ginny wasn't quite inclined to do at the moment.

"Teddy," Ginny said to her husband's Godson, "who do you think that could be at the door?"

"It's not Gramma…" The six-year-old shrugged, purple eyes wide, and hair changing color to a stark white (a sure sign that he was jittery) as he stared at his godfather's wife expectantly.

"No, I don't suppose that would be Andromeda." Ginny smiled down at him fondly and heavily rose to her swollen feet, one hand holding onto her pregnant belly and the other to the back of the chair for support. "Alright then," Ginny sighed, resigned. "Teddy, what do you say, should you and I go check who it is?"

"We should!" replied Teddy. All jitters forgotten (his hair going rich brown) and buzzing with energy, jumped to his feet readily. "Let's go, let's go!"

"Coming!" called Ginny as the doorbell rang again. Ruffling his hair (now as red as her own) as she went to answer the door, Ginny chuckled as she heard Teddy giggling behind her as he tripped in his attempt to hurry to follow and bellowed "Coming!" of his own. "Come along then, Teddy…"

"I'll open it!" volunteered Teddy, his eyes a mischievous shade of almond that were reminiscent of Harry's late father James Potter. Ginny hesitated. "Please, please let me open it, Ginny!"

"You think you can handle it?" she quirked a brow.

"I can reach now." He nodded, adding, "And Harry says I'm a big boy now."

"Is that so? All right, go on then," agreed Ginny with a broad smile to match Teddy's, "open it, you."

"Who is it?" called Teddy suspiciously as he opened the door a crack and peered outside through the small opening. Biting her lip, Ginny suppressed a laugh (Teddy acted just like his godfather when he did things like that). (And as if to prove her point, Teddy's hair suddenly shifted to a shade of jet-black that uncannily resembled Harry's –including its untidy state, cowlicks and all.)

"Who is it?" Ginny stage whispered as Hermione's voice reached her ears.

"It's 'Mione!" Looking over his shoulder, Teddy smiled proudly at Ginny and she noted that his eyes were that same enchanting shade of green as her husband's eyes were.

"Well," Ginny asked, "what are you waiting for? Let her in!"

"'Mione, come in!" he giggled sheepishly. Stepping aside, he opened the door wider for the very aggravated and pregnant witch on the other side of the door to enter.

"Thank you, Teddy," Hermione huffed, not unkindly. Mussing up his jet-black hair affectionately, she wobbled inside with the heels of her hands pressed to her lower back and greeted her sister-in-law. "Hello, Ginny."

"'Ello, Hermione," greeted Ginny cautiously.

Looking around and noting that a Potter was missing, she asked, "Where's Harry?"

"He's upstairs…"

"Talking to Professor McGonagall!" supplied Teddy importantly.

"Is that so?" Hermione muttered distractedly and fanned herself with her right hand as she allowed herself to be lead to the kitchen by Ginny and Teddy. "Merlin, I feel as big as a house… don't you?"

"Sometimes…" shrugged Ginny. "Harry says I look delectable, so I tend to not think about it too much." At this, Hermione harrumphed.

"You look pretty!" Teddy piped in. He didn't know what _de-lickable_ meant, but he had learned from his grandmother and godfather that girls liked compliments. Especially ones with swollen bellies like Hermione and Ginny's. "Both of you! Honest."

"Thanks, Teddy," said Hermione, smiling slightly and taking the lead as the kitchen doorway came into sight. "You're quite the charmer."

Teddy beamed at the compliment and grew an extra few inches, he was sure Harry would be very proud of him.

"Yes, thank you, Teddy. Run along now," Ginny said, noting that Hermione looked about ready to explode with whatever it was she'd come to talk to her about.

"Er, but where's Ron?" It was an innocent enough question…

Ginny closed her eyes and waited for it. She didn't have long to wait.

"_Ronald_?" Hermione growled, rounding in on Ginny with surprising speed and a bit of an unsteady sway. Teddy visibly shrank from Hermione, eyes wide and scared, hair turning a mousy shade of brown as he hid behind Ginny. "If he knows what's good for him, he won't come looking for me here."

"What did he do now?" Resigned, Ginny sat at the head of the kitchen table and watched Hermione pacing while she sent Teddy to fetch for Harry and munched on carrots. "Carrots?"

"No thank you." The carrots really did look tempting, but Hermione shook her head and allowed her temper to flare. "_Your_ brother thinks I can't handle my firewhisky! That's what happened," scoffed Hermione. Ginny looked at her dubiously, absentmindedly chewing on her crunchy, juicy carrot. "The nerve of him! Won't even let me have a sip! Can you believe him? A sip, that's all I wanted!"

"Er, Hermione… In case you've forgotten," Ginny pointed out, "you're _pregnant_."

"Thank you for pointing that out." Hermione glared at Ginny. "You don't think I've noticed?" she shrieked. Ginny winced. "It's not like I can forget when I can't even see my own feet!"

"Sorry for pointing out the obvious..." mumbled Ginny, muffling her words further as she bit into her carrot yet again. Trying not to smirk, she distracted herself by caressing her belly as she felt her son moving within and attempted to sooth him, munching away... The carrots really were exquisite!

Meanwhile, Hermione continued to rant. "Is it too much to ask for a single glass of firewhisky?" her sister-in-law fumed. "He does this to me" –Hermione pointed emphatically toward her own child-swollen belly– "and then denies me the simplest of pleasures!"

"My brother really does need a talking to..." Ginny's lip twitched as she tried to suppress her laughter. "Can't believe how unreasonable he's being!"

Hermione's eyes became slits as she glared at Ginny with suspicion. "Ginevra Molly Potter, I demand you give me some firewhisky."

"What?" squeaked a flabbergasted Ginny.

"Don't be like that," said Hermione impatiently. "I know Harry keeps some around."

"Er–" Ginny tried to think of something to stall but nothing came to mind…

"_Accio _fire–" began Hermione, looking determined and triumphant as Ginny looked on with horror. Thankfully, at that very moment, the doorbell rang once again and effectively interrupted Hermione, and soon after, there was an insistent fist pounding at the door.

"That wouldn't happen to be Ronald, would it?" Ginny remarked saucily.

"Hermione!" Ron bellowed. Concealing a smirk, Ginny bit off the last of her carrot. Hermione stiffened and her eyes became owl-like and panicked as her eyes began to dart around for somewhere to hide. However, she couldn't move. "I know you're in there."

"I'll go get that..." Ginny said, getting back to her feet with a relieved sigh.

"Don't you dare!"

"Ginny, open this bloody door!" demanded Ron.

"I'm going," Ginny said pointedly, pointing from her person to the door. "I don't fancy getting hexed while pregnant by my own bloody brother or having Harry do unspeakable things to his best mate on my behalf, just because you decided to take the Slytherin way out of this, Hermione."

"That isn't what I'm doing," Hermione huffed indignantly.

"Sure it isn't..."

Rushing after Ginny, Hermione soon gained on her wobbling sister-in-law (wobbling herself) and opened the door as Ron readied himself for another bout of pounding. The two stared at each other in silence for a moment, their cheeks flushed, and ignored Ginny, the silent spectator and bemused host.

"Don't be such a prat, Ronald Bilius Weasley," admonished Hermione, finally breaking the silent stand off. "Do you want to break your sister's door?"

"If it gets your attention, love," scowled Ron. However, his eyes were scanning over his wife's pregnant form worriedly. As an after thought, he glanced at his sister briefly and greeted her, "Hey, Gin."

"Hey yourself, Ronald." Ginny ushered her brother inside impatiently, ignoring Hermione's death glare, and closed the front door behind him as the argument moved to the kitchen. Thank Merlin nothing could ruin her appetite, since she was with child, thought Ginny.

"Are you okay, 'Mione?" Ron was asking Hermione quietly, softening his tone and expression, as Ginny rounded back into the kitchen in their wake. Given her brother's worried expression, Ginny knew that whatever was going on between the two was more serious than lack of firewhisky in the bloodstream.

"Merlin, I'm fine!" screeched his exasperated wife. "How many times must I tell you that I'm fine before you get it through that thick skull of yours, Ronald?"

"At least once more, Hermione..." Ron's tone was warning, eerily quiet, and Hermione bristled but remained quiet, looking uncharacteristically chastised. "You were bloody bleeding last night."

Hermione flinched and Ginny instantly grew concerned as she glanced apprehensively between the two. Bleeding while on the last trimester could mean that the baby was at risk. Meaning that any kind of bleeding needed to be treated as a potential emergency. Not for the first time, Ginny wondered what was keeping Harry and Teddy when she needed her husband here to intervene between his two friends and ease her worries away.

"That's nothing to panic over..." Hermione whispered, looking lost and slightly scared. She really didn't want to panic but having Ron panicking was beginning to push her over the edge. Ron was supposed to be the one that remained aloof in their relationship and she was the one that did all the worrying, not the other way around. "A bit of bleeding is normal, all the books say so."

Codswallop, that is! thought Ginny, aghast. Trying not to put her two Knuts into the conversation that she wasn't a part of, Ginny set about getting her kettle to boil some water to serve some tea. That way, her brother and sister-in-law could have some semblance of privacy to sort through things.

In her opinion, Ron needed to talk some sense into Hermione on his own, even if that meant that Ginny had to bite her own tongue to avoid calling her sister-in-law mental. What was Hermione thinking! She needed to go straight to the hospital rather than staying here to argue with Ronald!

"Please," Ron pleaded with his wife as he approached her and enveloped her in his arms. He didn't care that his sister was watching this spectacle they had brought to her home, his only concern was his distressed and pregnant wife. "I'm just trying to look after you and our baby."

"I know... I'm sorry," she sniffled.

Hermione really tried, she really did, but she couldn't keep her tears from falling as her husband embraced her the way she needed to be held. With equal measures of tenderness and fierceness, his hug made her feel secure, loved, and reassured.

Before they'd married, Hermione hadn't noticed or appreciated just how patient Ron tended to be when it came to her. Now, after nearly five years of marriage, she marveled at the fact that he still loved her –even when she was being unreasonable. Like now.

"Allow me to do that, Hermione." Ron caressed her cheek tenderly, tucking wayward curls behind her ear as he went. "Let me take care of you and take you to St. Mungo's. Put me at ease?"

"I don't know, Ron…"

Ron knew that Hermione was feeling as apprehensive as he was about the bleeding scare she'd had the night before but was frightened of voicing her fears. Because he had also read the books, Ron knew that Hermione was underplaying the gravity of the situation.

Thankfully, Ron knew Hermione better than he knew himself and understood what was going on in her mind. He understood that she was even more scared of confronting something she hadn't read about in one of her pregnancy books and that made her feel like she wasn't in control of the situation.

However, he was on a mission to show her otherwise and knew to go about it with more tact than he normally approached everything else. The journey to becoming a parent had been a turning point for his and Hermione's relationship and he would be damned if he wasn't there for her.

"So this had nothing to do with firewhisky to begin with, did it?" Ginny interjected, trying to defuse the tension.

"Firewhisky?" Ron asked, looking rightfully confused as he came to his senses. Hermione chuckled against his chest, drying her tears on his robes. Looking down at her, he found her already staring up at him with a watery smile and understanding downed on him. "Oh..." Ron, too, chuckled.

"Do enlighten me," Ginny asked impatiently.

"Well..." Hermione began, trailing off and looking embarrassed.

"Hermione was trying to prove a point earlier," Ron offered. Hermione nodded impishly and offered her husband an apologetic smile.

"Okay..."

"Basically," supplied Hermione, "the firewhisky bit was my last straw."

Ron nodded. "Hermione has been a tad bit stressed lately, you see..."

Ginny scoffed. She knew her brother well and that meant she knew when he was lying. And he was lying now, which could only mean one thing: Hermione must have been behaving hysterically lately.

"And irritable," offered Hermione. Looking amused, Ron nodded and Hermione smacked him.

"Oi!" he complained. "Woman, I was being honest."

"Oh, don't be daft, Ronald," Ginny chuckled.

Bollocks, Gin's _never _going to let me forget today, or live it down, Ron thought with growing trepidation. Despite the moody thought, Ron was looking forward to the future teasing his sister was sure to follow up on. Sibling rivalry amongst the Weasleys sure could keep things interesting for years on end.

"What's happening down here?" Harry asked as he appeared in the doorway, looking like he'd seen an Inferi of his parents, and offered the gathered group a brave attempt at a smile. Behind him, Teddy who looked like an exact replica of Harry at the moment (down to the pearly-white scar on his forehead in the shape of a lightning bolt), peered at the adults with some apprehension. "Gin?"

"We were just about to sit down for tea," said Ginny. Discreetly exchanging worried looks, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron decided to not inquire, for the time being.

"Hey mate," Ron greeted with a nod. Teddy relaxed slightly as he noticed Hermione was smiling again, though she looked tearful. "Teddy!"

"Ron!" Teddy ran from his godfather's side and threw himself at Ron who had been expecting the rough welcome and chuckled as he caught the human Bludger that was Teddy Lupin. Hermione chuckled, too, ruffled and kissed the top of his hair in apology before returning her attention to Harry.

"Hey Harry," offered Hermione as she went over to hug her best mate. "Sorry about all the screaming. I hope we didn't interrupt anything important. Teddy mentioned Minerva was here?"

"Yeah, but don't worry about it. I'm used to it." Harry chuckled, dismissing her apology as he returned her hug. Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes. "What did Ron and you row about this time?"

Hermione sighed heavily and looked away from Harry as she hugged her torso, refusing to meet his eyes. "We had a little scare," she confessed. "Just a bit of bleeding…"

"That serious, huh?" Harry squeezed Hermione's shoulder as she nodded tersely, offering her some comfort. "Everything okay, I trust?" he asked, concerned for his unborn nephew and two best friends.

"Between us, yes." Hermione looked up at Harry, showing equal parts gratitude and worry shining in her coffee colored eyes. "As for the baby... We don't know yet..." She chewed on her lower lip. "That's what we were rowing about, Ron says he wants to take me to St. Mungo's but I don't know... What if it's a false alarm? I wouldn't like to waist their time and–"

"Hermione, don't be thick," Harry said firmly but kindly, interrupting her babble. "I think you should listen to Ron and go get yourself and the baby looked after."

"You too, huh?"

"Yes." Harry nodded. "That's what I would do if Ginny had a scare. Better to be safe than sorry. Don't you think?"

"Perhaps," Hermione allowed, her tone noncommittal.

"I know you're always on top of everything, Hermione, and you've probably read every book there is about pregnancies... But the truth is, 'Mione, this is you guy's first pregnancy," Harry pointed out. "There are things a book won't be able to tell you. Things you'll only learn from experience."

"I know that..." Hermione whispered, looking near tears again. Placing his chin on top of her head, Harry hugged Hermione again consolingly and rubbed soothing circles on her back.

Meanwhile, praying that his best mate was talking some sense to his wife, Ron engaged his sister in conversation. Ginny was confirming what Hermione had already informed him about the vaginal bleeding and what he already knew –that it happened and could sometimes be a sign of an arising complication this far along into her final trimester.

Therefore, she suggested he take Hermione straight to St. Mungo's. Then, the conversation moved on to what was new with Harry and why had he come down from a conversation with McGonagall looking so particularly pale. To which Ginny replied that she hadn't the foggiest, since Harry had yet to tell her.

"Hey," Harry whispered, tone playful, "I thought you made a vow to keep my best mate happy for the rest of his life."

Hermione smirked. "And fed." The two chuckled and just like that, the mood of Number Twelve improved. Though Harry was acutely aware that his wife and best mate were watching him critically. "We'll go," said Hermione.

"Good." Looking around for his wife, Harry met Ginny's brown gaze and sighed contentedly at the mischievous twinkle he found there. "How about that tea?"

"Yes, please!" Hermione exclaimed.

Placing his arm around Hermione's shoulders, Harry stirred her toward the table and helped her sit. When Ginny stood and shortly returned to the table with the kettle, five teacups, sugar, and creamer floating behind her and placed everything before them, Ron did the same for his little sister.

"Blimey," Ron groaned and looked at Ginny like he was about to be sick. "I can't believe my little sister has had sex and is having a baby..."

Ginny rolled her eyes, muttering, "Ronald, you prat." Hermione and Harry exchanged looks from across the table as they bit their lips, trying not to laugh. "Your nephew has been on his way for the past seven months, Uncle _Ronnikins_."

"Whatever, I'm just saying..." Ron muttered, cringing. "Just because I approved of you and Harry getting together, it doesn't mean it's gotten any easier. You're my little sister!"

"What's sex?" Teddy asked, honestly curious, and caused all conversation to awkwardly come to a halt. "What does it have to do with babies, Harry?"

Ron coughed, his ears turning red at the tips. Turning his attention to his godson, Harry chuckled uncomfortably and answered, "That's a conversation for later, Teddy."

"Oh..." Teddy muttered, disappointed (his eyes turning a sad shade of stormy grey).

"But we will have it," Harry promised, ruffling Teddy's suddenly shaggy hair.

"Really?" Teddy perked up, his eyes returning to emerald-green and his hair shrinking back to its previously messy style.

"I don't envy you, mate," Ron muttered under his breath.

"No worries, mate," Harry said, just as casually, "you'll be helping me."

"What?" Ron sputtered, protesting.

"It's only fair," Ginny pointed out, smirking as she leaned over and kissed Harry, smack on the lips, in appreciation of his quick wit. "Given that you brought up the subject with a child present in the first place."

Smirking, Harry began to serve the tea all around and with another flick of his wand summoned a few pastries to compliment the warm drink. Ron groaned. Teddy blinked rapidly and sporting a slight frown, his eyes darted from adult to adult in an attempt to follow what was being said.

"She's right," added Hermione, giggling at her husband's discomfort. "This'll be great practice for the future."

"Merlin, I'm so lost!" Teddy exclaimed, flailing his arms in dramatic exasperation as he glanced between the four adults for some illumination. Sadly for Teddy, none came. Instead, the four adults glanced at him, then at each other, and chuckled heartily, causing the six-year-old to blush and look simultaneously pleased with himself, though he had no idea why what he had said seemed so funny to them.

* * *

..….

* * *

"Besides," Harry muttered to Ron when Teddy wasn't paying attention, "I never mentioned 'when' the conversation would be taking place."

"How very Slytherin of you, mate," complimented Ron, looking more at ease. "By the way," Ron asked, tone serious, "did you manage to convince Hermione into allowing me to take her to the hospital?"

"I talked to her."

"And?" pressed Ron.

"And I think you should ask your _wife_," Harry said, rolling his eyes. As Ron scowled at him, Harry decided to have mercy on his best mate and finally told him that Hermione had agreed to go to St. Mungo's.

"Thanks mate," Ron said, so sincerely that Harry couldn't tease him about it.

"Take her as soon as you guys are done here," Harry advised. Ron's gaze darkened but he agreed.

* * *

…...

* * *

Ron and Hermione had just left and Harry and Ginny were at the library, lounging on their favorite sofa, while Teddy paced the library in search of his godfather's golden Snitch.

Harry had promised his godson that if he managed to capture the Snitch, he would buy him his own broom as a birthday present for his approaching seventh birthday. Therefore, Teddy was rather committed to his cause. What he didn't know was that Harry would be buying him the broom either way –he would just have to make sure that Teddy thought he _had_, in fact, captured the golden Snitch.

"You owe us ice cream, Harry James Potter," Ginny informed her husband casually as she wove her fingers through his and sighed contentedly.

"Is that so?" Harry asked, tone aloof as he observed his godson's dedicated search with an amused smile on his lips.

"Yeah!" Teddy agreed, nodding, and bounded over to make himself comfortable in his godfather's lap. Of course, at the mention of ice cream, Teddy became thoroughly distracted from his ongoing search. Though, he thought he needed and deserved a break from searching for the Snitch, after all. "You owe us!"

"The day isn't over yet," Harry informed them, smirking at their pleased expressions and exchanged looks of triumph.

* * *

…...

* * *

**Later that night (after an outing to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, of course):**

"Is it later yet?" Ginny asked significantly.

"What?" Harry asked, looking lost. "Oh… Not yet, I–"

Harry and Ginny Potter were getting ready to call it a night when Ginny decided to inquire about McGonagall's but her efforts where interrupted when there came an urgent tapping on their bedroom window. Wand aloft, Harry carefully approached the window with the tip of his wand aglow to find an eagle owl.

"What is it?" Ginny wanted to know, since she was already in bed and couldn't see the large owl.

"An owl," Harry reported.

Frowning, Harry opened the window and allowed for the bird to hop inside. Perched on Ginny's vanity, the eagle owl extended its leg and hooted at Harry imploringly. Reaching for the parchment attached to the bird's extended leg, Harry recognized Ron's writing as he unfurled it.

"Who is it from?" Ginny asked in a hushed tone.

"Ron." Noting the address, Harry saw that it was from St. Mungo's and not the youngest male Weasley's usual address. "He's written it from St. Mungo's.

"What does it say?" Ginny demanded as she stood from bed as quickly as her body would allow. "Is everything all right?"

Quickly scanning the letter with Ginny reading over his shoulder, Harry learned that Ron had owled the two, asking that they didn't alert the rest of the family, yet, but to please come to St. Mungo's as soon as possible. Hermione had been admitted, the healers at St. Mungo's had done their diagnostics of both, mother and child, and wanted to keep them under observation.

"We have to go…"

_Placenta abruption_, the Healer attending to the Weasleys had called it. Something that occurred when the placenta detached from the uterus and it happened to one in a one hundred and fifty deliveries. At the moment, Hermione was being monitored for signs of shock and given a Blood-Replenishing Potion to help replenish the amount of blood loss she had sustained.

Basically, Ron and Hermione, both, needed the support of their best friends. Thankfully, they were family and their being there wouldn't present any trouble with the healers.

"I'll go and wake Teddy," Harry said and nodded. "I'll get ready once I bring his things here."

"Okay," agreed Ginny, "just, hurry…"

With their hearts in their throats, Harry and Ginny changed in a flurry, got a befuddled and groggy Teddy ready, and quickly made use of the Floo network to get directly to the hospital. Upon arriving at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, the Potters and one little Lupin found Ron awaiting their arrival.

"Is Hermione–?" Ginny began to ask but stopped abruptly as Harry squeezed her hand warningly and she actually took in the sight of her brother. "Ron…" Ginny whispered, her voice choked by tears.

He looked pale and the moment that he saw his best mate and little sister's worried but supportive faces, Ron heaved a shuddering sigh that gave way to a single tear, which traveled the length of his long nose. Even Teddy had become uncharacteristically quiet, tightly holding onto his godfather's other hand.

"Thank you for coming so quickly," Ron choked out. Without hesitation, the trio went up to Ron and embraced him. Overwhelmed by their welcomed comfort, Ron shook with silent sobs and, in the comforting embrace that only family could provide, allowed himself to crumble without shame.

"Of course we're here for you, mate," Harry told him sincerely. "You and Hermione aren't doing this alone." Ginny's grip on his hand tightened and he squeezed gently back, understanding her silent thanks.

"Thanks, mate," Ron whispered, voice thick with emotion.

"We'll get through this," Ginny assured her older brother, "together."

"Together," the four of them agreed.

* * *

**…...**

**...…**

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**_A/N: _**_Thank you for reading up to this point. For those of you few reviewers and those who added the story to their alerts, you have my gratitude: Thank you. Until next chapter –(In exchange for a Sneak Peek into next chapter, feel free to leave a review)– _Chapter Six: **First Claim**_. _


	6. First Claim

**_A/N: _**_This is a _**WARNING! **_The topic touched upon this chapter might be a difficult and delicate subject for some. I know it is for me, but it needed to be touched upon in order to set up the stage for this story. _

_Thank you for reading, and sorry to those whom I'll be bringing up unpleasant memories, that isn't my intention._

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**_…..._**

**_…..._**

* * *

**Harry Potter**

and the Malediction of the Deathly Hallows

By

_Amaterasu Kinesi_

* * *

Chapter Six

**First Claim**

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**..….**

* * *

**_Wednesday - March 30, 2005_**

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******..….**

* * *

The days following Hermione's hospitalization due to Maternal blood loss were a blur. A couple of hours after Harry, Ginny, and Teddy had arrived at St. Mungo's, the rest of the family had been informed about the situation as soon as Hermione and the baby had been stabilized. Ginny had made sure to owl Ron's and her side of the family and Andromeda Tonks, while Harry went out with Teddy to place a phone call to the Grangers.

After that, came the unnerving waiting and uncertainty –the terrifying and mind numbing silence that could only be found in the waiting room of any hospital, magical or none magical. Until, finally, the grandparents and uncles had arrived at last, rushing in worriedly and demanding answers.

All the Healers had gone out of their way to reassure Ron and Hermione and their families that what had happened was something that couldn't have been prevented, letting them know that they were doing everything to make sure that both mother and baby remained stable. Though, it was also pointed out that no one fully understands what causes placenta abruptio, but women with chronic high blood pressure have the highest risk, which wasn't Hermione's case.

For that reason, the Healers at St. Mungo's were constantly monitoring the baby's heart rate under careful observation. When asked why this was necessary, one of the Healers had explained that it was a means of preventive measures. Further explaining that since the placenta is the lifeline of a fetus, and if it becomes detached (as Hermione's had), it becomes a serious problem that needs continuous and careful monitoring.

_Placenta abruptio_ causes a decrease to the supply of oxygen and nutrients the baby receives from the mother, making it one of the leading causes of fetal death in the third trimester. Therefore, in case the baby showed any signs of distress, the Healers needed to be aware in order to act and choose what to do to ensure that both mother and child remained safe.

Meaning, that if things got too complicated, they would probably have to induce Hermione into early delivery –which was something they were trying to avoid. However, depending on what complications arose, the alternatives could lead the Healers to perform a cesarean if the induced labor couldn't be carried out naturally.

Thankfully, that hadn't happened.

Still, mother and child weren't put out of the danger zone yet. When someone had dared ask what was on everyone's mind but no one dared to ask, for fear of jinxing the delicate situation, everyone held his or her breaths and waited to hear the answer with trepidation.

More tactfully than anyone thought was possible, the family had been assured that maternal death was rare but wasn't something that could be ruled out –just like the baby being _safely_ delivered to term wasn't exactly realistic but it was what the Healers were aiming for. In any case, there was more than a 90% chance of the baby surviving _placenta abruptio_.

In Hermione's case, the separation of the placenta from the inner wall of the uterus had been moderate (sometimes it pulls completely away), though she had to endure severe abdominal pain and cramps, including uterine tenderness. Meanwhile, she also had to endure the frustration that came from lack of information, since the Healers were trying to keep her distress levels to a minimum –something they mostly treated with Calming Draughts.

* * *

…...

* * *

During the days following, (after close friends had also been informed) the Grangers, Weasleys, Potters, Tonks and little Lupin, Longbottoms, and Scamanders had been steadily coming and going from St. Mungo's in support of Ron and Hermione. Doing everything they could for their family and friends in their time of need, whenever they were available. Even Minerva McGonagall had taken leave of Hogwarts to provide her support.

Mostly, they provided good company and great conversation, while smuggling in food from home. Hermione greatly appreciated their efforts but was growing distressed and impatient. Her due date was fast approaching and, thankfully, her condition hadn't worsened. However, she had this nagging suspicion that there was something she was missing…

Earlier in the day, also, she had nervously endured through _another _physical exam while Ron wasn't around. At Hermione's insistence, he had taken a moment to go home to eat something, shower, and change into clean robes. She had tried to be considerate and regretted it the moment he'd gone. Instantly, Hermione had felt Ron's absence and it had become even more pronounced during the evaluation.

Now that it was Thursday night and she'd been at St. Mungo's for fifteen nights, the team of Healers attending to her had taken to observing her uterine contractions and her baby's response to them after she had complained about some backache in passing. And gratefully, Ron was once again back at her bedside and holding her hand, while caressing soothing circles against her palm with his thumb.

"You can go to sleep, you know?" Ron said, his tone amused.

Shaking her head, curls bouncing, Hermione smiled and replied, "I want to watch you a little longer." Her cheeks now tinted pink, she admitted, "I've missed you."

"I see…" Ron chuckled and leaned in, kissing Hermione's lips tenderly as she closed her eyes and hummed deep in her throat with appreciative approval. "I missed you too," he told her. Backing away slightly to meet her coffee colored eyes with his cerulean ones, he smiled at her. "I miss you at home, specially when you don't let me stay here and send me to our bed alone."

"I'm sorry…"

Leaning in again, he placed another tender kiss against her swollen belly. Hermione's breath caught and her eyes clouded over with unshed tears. "There's nothing to be sorry about, 'Mione," he assured her. "I love you too bloody much" –Hermione smirked, pleased– "to stay cross with you."

"That so?" she breathed and pulled him in for a kiss that was more satisfying than it was tender. Ron hummed his response against her lips, his upturned into a smile, and kept eye contact. "I love you too." The words came out muffled as she peppered his scratchy jaw line with lingering kisses.

"I've missed this…" he sighed, slowing her kisses down and pulling away reluctantly.

"Mum!" Hermione exclaimed sheepishly as her mother cleared her throat from the doorway.

"Monica…" Ron greeted his mother-in-law rather weakly, as the tips of his ears grew warm. He was sure they were red with embarrassment.

"I see nothing has changed," Monica said, her tone light and slightly amused, "Hermione? Ron?"

"Er…" Ron scratched the back of his neck while Hermione leaned against his shoulder and buried her face in her hands, chuckling lightly with embarrassment.

"I thought you'd gone home, Mum?" Hermione said and, though her voice was muffled, her uncertainty came across as a question.

"I was going to but then thought that Ron might want to go home to sleep, for a change," Monica explained. "He hasn't been home in two days…" Given her daughters panicked face, Monica's voice trailed off along with her offer of goodwill.

"Thank you, Monica," Ron said quietly, looking between mother and daughter. "I really appreciate it, but I think I should stay here."

"Of course." Visibly, Hermione relaxed and offered her husband a grateful smile and her mother an apologetic one. "It's okay, sweetheart," her mother assured her. "Your father and I will stop by tomorrow after work, all right?"

Hermione agreed. "Say hi to daddy for me and tell him I missed him today."

"I will sweetheart," Monica promised her daughter. Having gone up to her daughter's bedside, she gave her a hug and kiss goodnight. "Take good care of my baby girl, Ron," she added and gave her son-in-law a hug and a kiss goodnight as well.

"Mum!" Hermione protested, as she was wont to do when her mother said things like that to her husband.

"You know I do," he promised, smiling. "Drive safely."

"Goodnight," Monica whispered one last time.

Mrs. Granger knew that her daughter was in good hands but she couldn't help but worry. That was her job as a mother, to worry for her one and only daughter, and also, woman's intuition. As she left St. Mungo's that night, a feeling of trepidation clung to her chest and made her heart ache. Silently, she sent a skyward prayer for her daughter and grandson to be safe.

Getting into bed with his wife, Ron placed their entwined hands gently atop Hermione's swollen belly. Together, they soothed their unborn child with gentle caresses and talked to him for a while. Usually, when he heard either of their voices he would still and so was the case this time.

"Go to sleep, love," Ron urged. "I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

"Well, if you promise then I can't argue, can I?" teased Hermione, her eyes heavy with sleep. She yawned. "I love you, Ronald Bilius Weasley."

"And I love you, Hermione Jean Weasley." Content, Hermione smiled and closed her eyes, allowing sleep to claim her for the night. The last thing she felt was Ron's kiss against her forehead and his whispered "Goodnight," as she drifted off.

* * *

…...

* * *

**_Friday – April 1, 2005_**

* * *

******..….**

* * *

**11:45 a.m.**

As Ron had promised, he was there in her bed when Hermione had woken up earlier that day around nine. Around ten thirty, Harry and Ginny had arrived for Ginny's check up and stayed after to keep them company. All in all, the day had been quiet and peaceful so far. Something for which both Ron and Hermione were grateful.

"So everything's all right with James Sirius Potter?" Hermione asked, inquiring after her nephew and would be godson.

"Yes," Ginny smiled, sighing. "Strong heartbeat. Ten fingers and toes… everything looked in order when the Healer did the spellogram."

"That's wonderful!" Hermione beamed, pleased. She thought that it was enough strain for the family with her in the hospital and hoped to Merlin that Ginny carried to term without any complications.

"It still amazes me…" Harry said, beaming. "He's grown so much and now, we only have a few more weeks until we finally meet him."

Ginny, Hermione, and Ron nodded, fully understanding what he meant.

"I know what you mean, mate," Ron said, glancing at his own pregnant wife significantly.

"It feels nothing short of a miracle, doesn't it," Hermione supplied, grabbing onto Ron's hand.

"Sorry we can't stay much longer, but I think we should go," Harry informed them as he glanced at Ginny.

"Yeah," Ginny grimaced. "Honestly, I'm famished and need to eat something." Glancing coyly at Harry she added in a stage whisper, "And I think I'm not the only one."

Unapologetic, Harry shrugged.

"It's okay, you two," Hermione chuckled. "Go. Eat. The baby will appreciate it and so will Harry."

"Thanks for coming, Sis," Ron said, hugging his sister. "Mate." Turning to Harry, he hugged him too.

While the women said their goodbyes, Ron asked Harry how things were at the Auror office. Smiling a knowing smile, Harry told him that all was well and that he'd only been going for half days himself. In fact, things had been quiet lately (which slightly worried Harry) and so there had been no arrests for the past two weeks. Satisfied with that, Ron left Harry to say his goodbyes to Hermione.

"We'll come back later today, around eight ," they promised as they left.

* * *

…...

* * *

**_Saturday – April 2, 2005_**

* * *

**…...**

* * *

**2:20 a.m.**

"Something's wrong," whispered Hermione, rousing from sleep with a start. "Ron," she said more urgently.

"What's wrong Hermione?" Ron asked, dropping his _Quidditch Weekly_ magazine with his heart in his throat and coming to her side. He had been napping on a chair (Hermione had been too irritable all evening to allow him into bed with her –she just couldn't get comfortable!) with the Quidditch magazine shielding his eyes from the harsh lighting.

"Ron, something's wrong!" she whimpered.

Trying not to panic as he watched Hermione growing pale and sweaty as her bed sheets stained with blood, Ron searched his robes for his wand with trembling hands. Finding his wand, Ron pointed it at his throat, flicked it, and pressed it to his column.

"_Sonoros!_" said Ron, looking determined as he added, "We need help in here!" His voice was now enhanced and sure to summon any nearby Healers.

"I-I think my water just broke," Hermione stuttered, looking stunned.

Ron stared at her for a moment, processing her words and swayed on the spot when he did. "You're going into labor?" he whispered hoarsely, eyes wide.

Unable to speak through a painful contraction that took hold of her at that very moment, Hermione simply nodded. Looking stunned, Ron muttered something that sounded like "Okay" but could have been "bloody hell," Hermione wasn't sure. Either way, the wizard in question managed to look terrified and excited all at once.

"What's going on?" asked a Healer, rushing in with her hand aloft and pushing Ron aside.

"She's gone into labor," Ron provided as his wife let out a bloodcurdling scream. He paled.

"That she has," agreed the Healer. Casting spells as she went, the Healer now was able to monitor both Hermione and the baby's heart rate. "Breathe, Mrs. Weasley," the Healer urged. "Breathe. Your child needs the oxygen. Open your legs wide and whatever you do, don't start pushing yet. I just need to see if you're crowning. The Head Healer will be here shortly."

Glaring at the Healer, Hermione turned her eyes away from the irritating witch and searched Ron's. Finding him already looking at her, through gritted teeth she said, "Get Harry and Ginny here! Now!"

"I'll get our parents here too." Nodding as he received her acquiesce, Ron rushed out of the room purposefully and glad to have something to do. No owls, he thought, and resolved to send out a _Patronus Charm _to the Potters, Grangers, and his parents for the time being. His brothers could be told when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley arrived, he reasoned.

"Take this," the Healer said, thrusting a Calming Draught into Hermione's hand to help her remain levelheaded enough to push when she needed without distressing herself or the baby.

"Hurry back!" Hermione pleaded to her husband's retreating back and did as she had been prompted, drinking the Calming Draught. She was in a lot of pain and scared out of her wits. She needed him there and Hermione didn't know why she had sent him away.

Going down a mostly deserted corridor, Ron took his wand and gave it a twirl, allowing the feeling that the impending meeting of his firstborn gave him to fill him and steadily said, "_Expecto Patronum!_"

Out of the tip of his wand rushed out an almost blinding silver light that quickly took shape. As Ron blinked against the light, the next instant, a Jack Russel Terrier was standing expectantly before him. Ron beamed down at his spirit guardian, this was the most solid _Patronus Charm _he'd ever cast.

Giving his spirit guardian a gentle pet of appreciation and thanks, Ron gave it instructions to go and tell the others that they were needed at St. Mungo's because Hermione was about to give birth. With a bark and wagging tail, Ron's Jack Russel Terrier turned with its tongue lolling out of its mouth and ran straight into a wall, disappearing out of sight just as Ron went back to stand by his wife.

* * *

…...

* * *

The moment Hermione laid eyes on her smiling husband's face as he sauntered back through the door, she felt immensely relieved. He was back and he didn't look like he wanted to be anywhere but at her side and that set her at ease. Be brave, she reminded herself, you're not alone in this.

As Ron met Hermione's gaze, his smile widened, even as worry nagged at him. He needed to be strong for the both of them. In his opinion, there were too many Healers in Hermione's room. Ron didn't want to think about it but, truth be told, the bustling sight of the Healers rushing around his wife and muttering incantations under their breath didn't bode well with him.

Despite that, he gave Hermione a reassuring smile and was pleased to see her returning smile, which seemed relieved. Standing beside Hermione and managing to stay out of the Healers' way, Ron took her hand in his and she squeezed it tightly, just as another contraction wreaked through her.

Just then, the monitoring spells went awry and an alarm went off. Hermione's hold on Ron's hand became painful as it went numb and she let out a scream that soon turned hoarse, as his heart pummeled erratically.

"The fetus's heartbeat is too fast!" a Healer warned and the rest of the Healing team seemed to abscond to attention. "Its movements are decreasing!"

"What does that mean?" Hermione cried and inhaled sharply, her grip on Ron's hand growing purple-ish.

"Prepare for emergency C-section!" said the Head Healer and, seemingly frenetically, started to wave his wand in complicated patterns over Hermione's swollen belly. An incantation that sounded like a song began to flow from the wizard and Ron watched on worriedly, though he did his best to keep calm for Hermione's sake.

"What's happening?" Hermione cried, looking frantically around at the Healers and hoping one of them would answer.

In tandem, the team of Healers muttered, flicking their wands, and conjured everything they needed for the Head Healer to perform the C-section. Towels, a basin filled with water, and things Ron didn't even recognize, and was too preoccupied to worry about at the moment.

"Look at me, Hermione," Ron said, his voice almost too quiet and calm for the chaos that surrounded them. Reaching with his other hand to caress her cheek, Ron tilted Hermione's face in his direction and away from the flurry happening at the foot of the bed. "Just look at me," he breathed.

"Mrs. Weasley, we need you to breathe," the Head Healer told Hermione kindly but firmly. "And do not push. A small complication has arisen and I am going to surgically deliver your baby right now. Did you hear me, Mrs. Weasley?"

Nodding, Hermione's eyes filled with tears that soon stained her cheeks and Ron quickly and gently cast aside.

"Here," the midwife said and handed Ron a flask with a clear potion with a yellowish tint to it and the consistency of slug slime. "Help her drink that."

"What is it?" Ron asked warily, refusing to give Hermione anything without knowing what it was first.

"Fentanyl Potion," the midwife answered impatiently. "It's a pain reliever."

"What about a Calming Draught or something?"

"This one works faster!" snapped the midwife. "Besides," the witch cleared her throat, "She's already had some. Have her drink all of that."

"All right, keep your wand…" Ron muttered, scowling, and turned to Hermione. "Hermione?" he whispered.

"Ron?" Hermione opened her eyes; she hadn't even realized she'd closed them.

"Drink this," Ron urged as he brought the flask to her lips. "It's Fentanyl Potion, it'll help with the pain."

"That's dreadful," Hermione croaked with a grimace and obediently continued to drink. Ron smiled sympathetically at his wife and caressed her hair, tucking away the unruly locks away from her sweaty forehead. Pushing Ron's hand away and, more importantly, the flask and its slimy contents, she said, "All done."

"Good, it's all ready taking effect," said the Head Healer, pleased as he noted Hermione's eyes becoming droopy due to the potion's sedating effect. "Here we go…"

And then, Hermione felt the sting of the first incision along her abdomen and then a second in her uterus. The pain was less than she had expected but it wasn't completely gone, it was dulled and made the pain to almost bearable. Grimacing, Hermione forcefully pressed her forehead against Ron's and unable to hold back a scream, cried out.

Looking into her husband's cerulean eyes, she whispered, "Ron, I'm scared."

"I know." Swallowing thickly, his eyes, too, filled with tears and he pressed a kiss to her sweaty forehead. "I'm scared too," he admitted, "But we'll get through this."

Gripping Ron's hand tighter still within hers, Hermione nodded and closed her eyes, letting the tears flow freely as she concentrated on keeping her breathing even. Meanwhile, Ron continued to whisper sweet nothingness to her and reassured her of his presence by pressing his forehead to hers.

"This isn't how we'd planned this…" she breathed, voice hoarse and speech slightly slurred.

Trying not to think of everything that could go wrong, Ron closed his eyes, feeling the tears that he'd been holding back sliding down his cheeks, and matched his breathing to Hermione's. They had to get through this. After all, they had survived helping Harry defeat Voldemort. Surely, childbirth couldn't overpower them.

"I know, love…"

* * *

…...

* * *

**3:00 a.m.**

"Congratulations, you have a baby boy." Ron heard the Healer say. "Date of birth, April second, two-thousand-and-five," the Head Healer announced without making eye contact. "Time of birth, three a.m."

Opening his eyes, Ron glanced at the Healer to watch him cut the umbilical cord and carefully pass his son to the midwife. Upon observation, Ron saw that his son was bloody, wrinkly, and perfect. However, he also noted that his son was too quiet as the midwife cleaned him and then smacked his bottom. Apparently, so had his wife.

"Ron, why isn't he crying?" Hermione asked fearfully as she fought to stay awake. She wanted to hold her baby. She wanted to hold Fredrik Gideon Weasley in her arms and see just how perfect he was. "Why isn't Fredrik crying?"

Glancing at his wife, Ron found her looking at their son through blurry eyes and knew that, like him, she was already assuming the worse. She was flushed but growing pale with fright and still so beautiful.

Upon hearing Hermione's frantic question, the Head Healer and the midwife exchanged worried looks. Silently reaching some kind of understanding while Ron watched impassively, the midwife nodded grimly at the Head Healer and wrapping a blue blanket around him, set him on a table.

Then, the Head Healer proceeded to clean the area of incision and close the wound, using a few drops of Essence of Dittany and Murtlap Essence in the process. Satisfied with his work and acutely aware that Ron was watching his every move, he proceeded to sterilize the instruments he had used.

"Is there something wrong with our son?"

Hermione heard Ron say as he addressed the Head Healer and she shivered, his voice sounded eerily calm. Glancing up at him bleary-eyed, Hermione found that for the first time in memory Ron's face was an impassive mask. This, more than anything else, truly frightened Hermione and she couldn't even speak.

"We're doing everything we can, Mr. Weasley," the Head Healer answered evasively, clearly avoiding the question and not wanting to alert them of the possibility that something _was _wrong with their son.

"You did not answer my question," Ron observed, tone cold and jaw set.

"Ron…" Hermione said. Her voice was a whispered plea, even though she wasn't sure what she was _pleading_ for.

* * *

…...

* * *

Meanwhile, though Ron couldn't see her from over the Head Healer's shoulder, the midwife was opening Fredrik's little mouth and, using a gloved finger, was making sure that his trachea was unblocked and nothing was hindering his breathing. Even as her finger came away with some placenta and blood, Fredrik had yet to take his first breath. Next, the midwife proceeded to perform cardiopulmonary resuscitation.

"_Ennervate!_" the midwife said, while pointing her wand at Fredrik's small, still chest, right over his heart. Counting the minutes, the midwife waited and repeated the action another three times with the same results. One last time, she thought to herself and almost with a sob, repeated, "_Ennervate!_"

Feeling defeated and her heart in her throat, the midwife caught the Head Healer's inquiring gaze and shook her head sadly, blinking back tears. At the beginning, when she'd chosen this branch of magic as her line of work and livelihood, she had been naïve in thinking that she would always be a witness to the most joyous moment in anyone's life. Of course, she hadn't realized how wrong her thinking was until her devastating first experience with the alternative…

* * *

…...

* * *

_Intrauterine death,_ the Head Healer thought with a heavy heart. He had suspected… Just after he had announced that the fetus's heart rate was too fast, he'd also noticed that its movements had been erratic and then, its movements had significantly decreased. However, he had still hoped… In some cases, it was possible to still help and rescue such a new, small life.

Shaking his head, the Head Healer thought it was ironic that people thought being a maternity Healer was a hard job, since it involved seeing so much gore and sometimes getting his hands bloodied. However, he found it was what came _after _the delivery that was the hardest part of his job description.

Not every delivery resulted in a new life being brought safely into the world. It was rare when the unthinkable happened, but it happened all the same. It could happen and then, he was the one that had to deliver the news to the parents… the families. Sighing heavily, the Head Healer met the cerulean eyes of Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley and took in the impassiveness with which the young wizard returned his gaze.

"I'm sorry…" he began and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. This part was always the same and it never got any easier. "We did everything we could." Sometimes, when he went home and he was alone in his flat, he would wonder if he had, in fact, done _everything_.

"No…" Hermione Weasley whispered and the Head Healer winced. This part, this part was the one that devastated him the most. The part when the mother voiced her denial, wailed, and cursed _him _for not saving her child's life. "Ron, what is he saying?" she choked out, confused and uncomprehending. "Our baby…?"

Hermione was trembling so much that she felt queasy and ready to hurl and it didn't help matters that Ron, still standing supportively next to her, was remaining uncharacteristically calm. It just wasn't like him and it unnerved and frightened Hermione. She felt like she was standing alone and the floor beneath her was crumbling where she stood.

"Yes, Healer," questioned Ron, voice cold, "what are you apologizing for?"

Hermione shivered as if she was cold, even though she was sure she was feverish, and for a frightening moment thought that maybe the Dementors were just outside her hospital door. However, she casted the thought aside and focused on the Head Healer as he made to speak.

Heart hammering and hoping his voice came out steady, the Head Healer answered, "We've lost your child."

"No…" Hermione muttered as the words "We've lost your child" rattled around her cognizant thought processing attempts and numbed her. "That's not possible…"

_That _got a small reaction out of Ron, he flinched and paled as he felt Hermione give in to her grieve and wail. She was crumbling around him and he was on his way to doing the same, but he refused to. Not yet, at least. Using his Gryfindor courage, Ron steeled himself, hardened his heart, and resolved to be strong for the both of them. Later… he promised himself.

The Head Healer was watching the Weasleys with a grim expression, expecting an outburst and Curses to start flying –it wouldn't have been the first time. However, all he got to witness was a wince from Ron (and he wasn't even sure he _had _seen that, not really) and Hermione crying while she trembled.

Then, within the next instant, Ron's face was once again impassive and he was protectively embracing his wife. The Head Healer thought Ron might have whispered something… something about _later_… but he couldn't be sure and he wouldn't ask. It wasn't his place and he couldn't get involved if he treasured a measure of sanity.

Heart in her throat, Hermione shook her head and closed her eyes, wishing that this were all a nightmare. For a second, she thought she'd convinced herself into believing she would be waking up shortly and find that she was still at St. Mungo's with Ron by her side, waiting to give birth to their first child.

Instead, she decided to focus on Ron, he was her husband, her home, her safety, and he would have answers and instantly make her feel better.

"Can we see him?" Ron asked quietly and his lips moved but he wasn't sure if he had actually voiced the question. Turning his face to meet the Head Healer's gaze, cerulean eyes clashed harshly with the other wizard's almond ones, and it was all the Healer could do not to flinch and look away from the storm of despair he found there, which was promptly masked.

"I'm sorry?" The Head Healer hadn't heard Ron's question.

"Can we hold our son?" It wasn't so much a request as it was a demand. "Can we see Fredrik?"

Numbly, the Head Healer nodded and with his stained hands, he motioned for the midwife to take the child to the grieving couple. "We'll finish cleaning and leave you to… say your goodbyes."

Swallowing thickly, Ron nodded as his and Hermione's gaze remained focused on the approaching midwife and the small bundle of blue blankets. By the time the couple was being presented with their stillborn child, Hermione had been reaching for her son and Ron had tears in his eyes that he refused to let fall.

"_Tergo,_" the Head Healer whispered as he pointed his wand at each of his hands individually and removed the blood from them. And repeated the process, pointing his wand at the bed to siphon the blood there away.

"He's perfect," Hermione choked out, marveling at the perfection of her son as her eyes brimmed and overflowed with tears. Gently, she caressed her son's small face as she had a proper look at him. Fredrik was a perfect mixture of both of his parents: He had Ron's long nose, smattering of faded freckles here and there, and brow shape; his other features, like the shape of his eyes, chin, and mouth were like Hermione's, but the little curlicues he had atop of his head were an even mixture of his mother's thick, brown curls and his father's red, undulating hair. "So perfect…"

"_Scourgify,_" he muttered, continuing, and cleaned the small table where the baby had lain previously while the midwife had administered cardiopulmonary resuscitation. "_Evanesco…_" With a final flick of his wand, everything his team of Healers had conjured vanished.

"He could be sleeping," said Ron without infliction.

"Fredrik Gideon Weasley, our baby boy…" Hermione whispered tenderly, fondly as if she was trying not to wake her sleeping child. Just for a little while, she wanted to pretend that that was all it was. That Fredrik was, in fact, simply sleeping and would wake up crying in a few and then she would nurse him. "I'm your mum and this is your dad," she told him and her heart became overwhelmed with a fierce warmth. "We're your parents and… we're…. so very _blessed_ to… finally… meet you."

_Too much…_ Ron thought as his throat tightened painfully with the burn of a torturous scream he was forcefully attempting to swallow, along with the tears he had yet to shed. But yes, he had to agree with Hermione, their son was perfect and a blessing. He thought he resembled Hermione but would probably be as tall as him… Well, he would have been…

Ron trembled where he stood and traced a finger delicately over his son's long nose, which resembled his down to the smattering of freckles along its bridge. Almost as if he was a stranger looking in, he watched with frightening detachment as Hermione wrapped Fredrik's diminutive, long fingers around her little finger and, bringing the digits close to her lips, kissed each one with a tender reverence that only a mother could accomplish.

Almost losing his composure at the sight and needing something to do himself, Ron leaned in and placed a kiss atop his son's forehead, marveling at the lingering warmth that still clung to Fredrik's tiny body and the tenderness of his baby skin. (The pair of them had witnessed enough death to know how the coldness of a lost life felt to the touch.) Pressing his forehead to Fredrik's, Ron inhaled and decided that he smelled just like his mother.

Fat tears running along her cheeks, Hermione looked down at the sight before her, Father and Son, and her voice was heartbreaking as she said, "But I didn't do anything _wrong_…" Ron tried to reassure her, but she wouldn't listen and despair was eating away at her and she was quickly deteriorating into hysteria.

"Tell –ask Harry–" Ron stuttered, trying to block out his wife's plaintive sobs and noticed he was trembling so much that he looked like he was about to shatter. "Don't tell the others… please."

Understanding what Ron meant despite his broken words, the Head Healer nodded as he waited by the door for the midwife to join him, since the rest of his team had quietly excited earlier and she was the only other Healer in the room with him. "I'll send Mr. Potter in shortly," he promised and then exited once the midwife had joined him at the door.

"Ron, I'm so sorry…" And then, just as the door clicked silently behind the Head Healer with finality, Hermione truly started to fall apart as she clutched their baby to her chest as if she would never let go. "I'm so sorry, Ron…"

"Hermione, don't…" Ron choked out, losing some of his composure as his voice broke. "None of this is our fault. No one is at fault…"

"I'm sorry, Ron…" she wailed, Ron's reassurances going unheard. "Please, don't hate me… I'm so sorry, Ron… so sorry…"

"No, no, 'Mione, I love you… Always, always love you."

"I'm so sorry…" Despite his reassurance, Ron's declarations seemed to cause Hermione to sob even harder.

* * *

…...

* * *

Outside, the Head Healer met many expectant faces and his heart constricted.

"Well?" a redheaded man asked eagerly with bright eyes that spoke of mischief.

"Boy," the Head Healer informed them grimly. However, no one except Potter and his expecting wife seemed to notice and exchanged worried glances. The remainder of their company (mostly redheads) were smiling proudly at each other and congratulating each other. Locking eyes with Potter, he quietly said, "Mr. Weasley would like for you to join him and his wife."

"I understand," Potter said just as grimly, nodded and stood.

"Alone," he added as Mrs. Potter made to follow and left to start on the paperwork this tragedy would require. Then, once he was done with all the tedious paperwork, he would need to find a quiet corner of the maternity ward in which to regain his composure. It was only the beginning of his shift and the Head Healer wasn't up to a good start, in his opinion, and so he expected his day to be a very long one.

Ginny looked confused from Harry to the Healer's retreating back, a question forming on her tongue and wanting to burst past her lips but didn't argue. Instead, she squeezed her husband's hand once and offered him a wan smile, before she let go and watched him walk toward the door without a backward glance. Fear gripped at her heart when she took notice of the stiffness in Harry's shoulders and the way he'd just squared them. He only did that when he was bracing himself…

"Gin, what's that look for?" George asked her, he always seemed to be the one most attuned to her moods and today, she wasn't so sure that was a good thing. Ginny shook her head and blinked rapidly, she thought she was being silly but…

"It's Ron… Harry…" she mumbled and everyone around her fell silent, just as the door ominously clicked shut behind her husband. Ginny could hear nothing but her own blood rushing in her ears and she shuddered, thinking of Dementors.

* * *

...…

* * *

With great trepidation, Harry opened the door to Hermione's room and the scene that met him almost brought him to his knees. Ron was draped over Hermione and their peaceful-looking child, stony faced and trembling with the effort it took him to keep from crying, while Hermione openly cried. She was apologizing for something while she hugged their son possessively to her chest.

"Ron?" Harry whispered hesitantly. As the door closed silently behind him, Harry stared at his best friends and felt the sting of tears as Ron met his green eyes with a look of defeat residing within the depths of his cerulean gaze and his suspicions were confirmed. "No…" he choked out and his back hit the door as he took a step back.

"He's dead, Harry…" Ron said, nodding and looking lost, "Fredrik… he–"

"I did everything I was told… Harry?" Hermione looked imploringly at Harry through misty eyes and his heart broke for the woman he loved like and considered a sister. "I didn't do anything wrong… So, why?"

"I'm so sorry," Harry cried, rushing to their bedside and falling to his knees as he reached them. Words failed him and most felt inadequate so he repeated himself, over and over again, thinking that _this couldn't be happening_. His heart was breaking and falling to pieces, for their pain was his own, and all he could say, was, "I'm so sorry…"

"I did everything…" Hermione repeated, broken. "I didn't do anything wrong…"

"I know you didn't," Harry reassured her and she cried harder. "I'm so sorry…"

* * *

**...…**

**…...**

* * *

**_ A/N: _**_This was one hell of a chapter to write. Painful and sad. Thank you for reading. Until next chapter –_Chapter Seven: **Broken Silence**_. _


	7. Broken Silence

**Harry Potter**

and the Malediction of the Deathly Hallows

By

_Amaterasu Kinesi_

* * *

Chapter Seven

**Broken Silence**

* * *

**…...**

* * *

**_Saturday – April 9, 2005_**

* * *

******..….**

* * *

_ "The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death," _Harry murmured under his breath.

Absently and with unwavering precision, his fingertips were currently tracing over the very same words, which were engraved into the wooden doorframe of his office door, as Harry braced his hands on either side of the open doorway. Only moments before, he had been lost in thought, thinking about life and death, and contemplative about the events of the last couple of years.

It was currently two forty-three in the morning and Harry couldn't sleep, so he had sought the comfort of knowledge found within the pages of old tomes in the refuge of his office. However, the volume that he had been pored over, since one thirty that morning, now lay opened and forgotten on top of his desk to the last page he had read before calling it quits.

Some five minutes or so ago, the words had begun to swam before his eyes and he hadn't been able to make sense of them after a while, even though he had desperately wanted to –after all, Harry was well aware that he needed the distraction and monotony of the menial task to assure him of his sanity. _Death_, Harry mourned as his finger angrily traced the word again and again, until the tip of his forefinger felt sore.

Ever since McGonagall had left him in possession of the Time-Turner and gone back to Hogwarts, whenever he had found time to spare, Harry had been incessantly researching ways to stabilize its volatile powers and since had found a few hopeful ways that needed further exploring and research. Something had taken a hold of him since then, and it was as if Harry had some kind of compulsion within him that wouldn't allow him to not do otherwise, and he found his every waking hour consumed with thoughts of the bloody Time-Turner.

That was, of course, before last week… Though he had now, once again, gotten back into the routine he had established almost a month ago, but this time around it was more out of a necessity to keep his mind occupied from wandering to obscure places rather than an obsessive compulsion.

Hearing fast approaching footsteps ascend the stairs, Harry tensed slightly and then smiled at the familiar pattern that accompanied the sound –he knew that gait and was well acquainted with its bearer. Ginny's up, he thought warmly and found himself smiling genuinely for the first time that week.

And though the thought made him feel slightly guilty, because he was sure he had worried her and was, most likely, the cause of her being up and out of bed at this hour, when she obviously needed to rest, Harry felt immensely relieved in knowing that he wouldn't be alone with his thoughts for much longer. With a ghost of a smile coaxing at his lips, Harry listened intently to his wife's ascend and focused his eyes in the direction of the landing, despite the fact he couldn't spy the stairs from his current vantage point.

"There you are…" Ginny whispered and nearly sagged at the sight of him as she rounded the corner, dragging a hand along the wall to keep her wobbly walk steady. Looking her husband up and down speculatively, Ginny huffed almost indignantly because he was clearly in one piece and she had been worried for nothing.

As Ginny looked him over, Harry mentally chastised himself for causing her distress. Clearly, Harry could see, his wife was so relieved to have found him at last that she couldn't muster the energy to be cross with him –like she normally would be if she'd woke up in the middle of the night for a loo break to find his side of the bed cold, empty and Harry gone– and simple looked indignant.

Instead, figuring she could hex her husband sometime later and when he did something to agitate her into acting drastic, Ginny made a beeline for Harry, reached out for him with her hand without any hesitation, and ghosted her fingertips over his stubbly, troubled features, patiently and tenderly smoothing them out. The moment was so sweet that Ginny almost feared breaking the silence, for it felt so fragile and almost sacred. But that wasn't surprising, Ginny was no stranger to treasuring every moment like this one that she spent with Harry.

"How come you're out of bed?" Ginny breathed in askance because she knew she had to. "Come to bed."

"No." Harry shook his head resolutely.

"_Fine_," she sighed letting her frustration seep into the word like venom. Frowning grimly, Ginny stared at Harry searchingly and tried to figure out what was keeping him from entrusting her with his thoughts. It was just rare for Harry to refuse to come to bed once she asked him to and even more of a rarity for him to not talk to her about his problems, and vice versa. Since she knew Harry always needed time to process things alone, Ginny almost never pushed him to talk to her until he came around on his own terms. However, this time around, she was losing patience with his prolonged silence and she was about ready to push.

"What's on your mind, Harry?" Ginny searched his eyes, imploring, and still her hands remained, tracing familiar patterns across Harry's inscrutable face, not willing to make the emotional distance into a physical one as well. "You've been distant for weeks and by Merlin," she hissed, "I've been worried sick over it and patiently waiting for you to tell me what's wrong!"

"Ginny, I think it's high time I stopped being such a prat, don't you?"

"Er…" Slightly surprised, Ginny blinked rapidly and her caresses came to a rest as she cradled her husband's left cheek. Uncertainly, she asked, "What do you mean?"

"Don't start being coy on my account, Gin." Harry sighed, leaned into her touch, and surrendered to her affections without any shame. Encouraged by this reaction, Ginny resumed her strokes along his stubble with a suppressed chuckle. He never quite understood or cared how she knew, but Ginny always did this when Harry most needed it –_needed_ her innocent touches. "We really need to talk…"

Having already made up his mind, Harry knew he couldn't keep Ginny in the dark any longer. She needed to know what was going on with him before things became strained and he truly wanted her insight. And foremost, Harry knew and understood that he needed to start treating Ginny like his equal once again, not just someone he loved and wanted to protect without giving her the choice to stand by him.

In all honesty, Harry had planned to talk to Ginny about everything much earlier but had decided to wait until things calmed down a little. In his opinion, things still hadn't calmed down enough just yet but Harry reasoned that he couldn't keep Ginny waiting much longer. There was only so much Ginny would endure before she decided to take matters into her own hand and opted to hex him into speaking.

After all, it had been almost a moth since McGonagall's visit. Not to mention, it had been nearly a week since their nephew had been declared dead upon his birth, and while Harry and Ginny had barely had time to process the loss and mourn, let alone sleep properly for days, tension was mounting high within the Potter household. There was fragility in the air that was foreboding and so Harry had kept more and more to himself, while Ginny had had her wand in a knot while trying to figure out how to cope without hexing people on sight.

Of course, the pain of losing Fredrik Gideon Weasley hadn't subsided for the Potters or Weasleys or Grangers, or all of their friends, really, but they were making due. The loss still felt raw, as if nothing would ever be right again in their world and Harry presumed that, if the world ever did finally go back to being relatively right one day, it wouldn't be for a very long time.

However, Harry had been painfully aware of the fact that, yes, while he was in mourning for his deceased nephew, he had been opportunist and taken the severity of the circumstance to cowardly shy away from telling Ginny about the Time-Turner. But now, he didn't feel like avoiding the subject any more.

"Is this you saying that you're finally breaking the self-imposed silence you've been keeping me in suspense with and finally telling me the reason for McGonagall's visit?" Ginny queried kindly and without animosity. Through a well-concealed grimace, Harry nodded with a ghost of a smile. "Better late than never, I suppose."

That pulled out a smile from Harry and he opened his eyes to gaze at his wife and took a moment to admire her in the flickering light of candlelight. She looked ruffled from lying in bed but otherwise serene and expectant –beautiful, in a word that didn't quite do her justice.

Grasping at her upper arms gently, Harry pulled Ginny into him and buried his face at the nook of her neck to conceal a chuckle, and proceeded to inhale her flowery scent, calming his raging turmoil. Allowing his eyelids to droop for a moment, Harry closed his eyes and saw small flashes of the night of April second flickering like snippets of a movie behind his fluttering lids.

Harry and Ginny had been so heartbroken after the day they had had and they had needed each other that night. His wife had _needed him _and, had he wanted to, Harry couldn't have denied her the comfort of his touch and body when she had so explicitly asked him for both that night. No, to be fair, Harry had almost resisted at first, thinking the occasion inappropriate, given the day's events, but soon realized that he had been craving Ginny's touch as much as she had been craving his.

Giving in to their desires had been healing, necessary, loving, and comforting in a way that neither of them had experienced before. Harry had found that in times of grieving, being surrounded and embraced by Ginny, the one person he loved without reservations and he knew loved him back just as fiercely, was the definition of solace.

"I think it's better you sit down," Harry murmured against her creamy, freckled skin as he pulled himself out of his memories.

Ginny shivered at the pleasant sensation of her husband's lips on her sensitized skin and instinctively braided her fingers into his impossibly messy black hair to massage the scalp above the nape of his neck. "Okay."

"Come." Caressing the curves of her hips appreciatively and kissing the descending slope of her shoulder, Harry slowly and reluctantly pulled back. Motioning for her to enter into his office, Harry followed suit and took hold of her hand, leading her to his desk chair (the most comfortable chair) and helped her sit. "Sit."

"I'm sitting, I'm sitting!" Ginny protested good-naturedly and chuckled lightly as she proceeded to sit. Crossing his arms over his chest, Harry reclined against the edge of his desk facing his wife and, in a manner that Ginny found formidably too distracting, nervously licked his lips. "So…" –Ginny faked a yawn and looked only slightly sheepish, given Harry's evident amusement– "McGonagall," she pressed, refusing to be sidetracked.

"McGonagall," Harry agreed and grinned at her efforts.

"Why was she here last time and why did you look like you'd just swallowed Gillyweed?"

"Is that what I looked like?" Harry mused, muttering. However, Ginny heard him and nodded enthusiastically with a glint of mischief evident in her brown eyes. Amused, Harry shook his head but quickly managed to sober up as he remembered that what he was about to discuss with Ginny was no joking matter.

Noting the change, Ginny straightened her back to attention, saying, "Sorry, I'll be quiet now. Proceed." and waited for Harry to speak.

"McGonagall came to… share some information with me," he finally said haltingly, as if he was uncertain of his words.

"Information?" Ginny frowned. "What kind of information?"

"Well…" Frustrated with himself, Harry shook his head and sighed, mussing up his hair with a frantic rake of his fingers. Ginny arched a brown but didn't press him, she figured she could wait a while longer, since she had waited this long. "Information about something Dumbledore had left her to do," he finally managed. "A mission, if you will."

"_Dumbledore_?" Ginny gasped. "But- but…" she sputtered. "What kind of mission? And how come she only came to you _now_? Dumbledore's been dead for _ages_."

"I wondered that too," Harry admitted. "Minerva said that the time hadn't been right and she had needed to wait for the right time."

Ginny mulled that over and reasonably asked, "What made her think last month was the 'right time' to come and talk to you?"

"Fawkes." Seeing Ginny's obvious confusion, Harry smiled but didn't add anything else for the time being.

"Fawkes?" Ginny repeated dubiously. Harry nodded. "As in Dumbledore's phoenix, that Fawkes?" Again, Harry nodded. "As in the inspiration behind the Order of the Phoenix, _that_ Fawkes?" Biting his lip to keep from laughing, Harry nodded yet again. Ginny clarified, "As in the same bloody phoenix that went up in flames and disappeared along with Dumbledorewhen he died, that _same_ _Fawkes_?"

"The very same, love," Harry said firmly. "He appeared at Hogwarts, sang, and disappeared again, leaving behind a feather for McGonagall to find and draw her own conclusions."

"By Merlin…" muttered Ginny, blinking rapidly. "This is _mental_, this is!"

"And that isn't even the best part," Harry practically warned.

"It isn't?" Ginny asked, sounding almost as exasperated as she did eager. "Do tell."

Reaching into the pockets of his pajama bottoms, Harry extricated a long, thin chain of fine gold that he now kept on his person at all times from within and presented it to Ginny with a rather grim look. Frowning, Ginny reached to unfurl his fingers from around the dangling chain and whatever it was attached to, which Harry was clutching within his fist. Prying his fingers open, Ginny spied a tiny hourglass innocently lying in the middle of Harry's slight trembling palm.

Impassive, Harry held his breath and waited, watching her warily. Almost comically, Ginny's eyes widened and then her head jerked up so she could meet Harry's eyes questioningly. He could practically hear the whispers of the many questions flashing in Ginny's eyes as they formed and dimmed in quick succession as each new one bombarded her mind before she could pick one to ask. Finally she managed to get her mouth to agree with her brain and breathlessly asked, "A Time-Turner?" Her voice trembled. "I thought they'd all but been destroyed!"

"A Time-Turner," Harry repeated just as quietly but his voice was steady. "And they had. This one survived because McGonagall had been holding onto it for nearly eleven years at Dumbledore's request."

"Dumbledore?" she asked, confused. "Why would he request…? _Eleven_ years, for that long, really? But I don't understand, why give it to you and why _now_?"

"It was meant for me," Harry explained, closing his fingers around the tiny hourglass and dropping his hand to his side. "Dumbledore somehow foresaw that I would need it at some point in the future, apparently, and Minerva decided she could trust that, given that he'd always been quiet insightful."

"I see… What could he have been thinking…?"

"Your guess is as good as mine."

Ginny's eyes suddenly lit up with hope and, almost not daring, said, "Harry, I think… …maybe… We could…"

"We can't." Immediately seeing where Ginny's thoughts were leading her, just as he had feared they would, Harry sighed and shook his head grimly.

"Why not?" she asked hotly, tears burning in her eyes. Harry's entire frame became rigid at Ginny's accusing tone. "You– We could _save_ our nephew… Save Ron and Hermione from–"

"You don't think I've already thought about that?" he asked, _demanded_ mournfully and the candles that provided the only source of lighting in the room threatened to extinguish as a gust of wind wrapped around Harry. "You bloody well _know_ I would do _anything_ for Ron and Hermione, Ginny! Don't _you_ dare, of all people, how can you even entertain the thought?!" Harry fumed and the candles' flickering fire flared higher as he fought for control. "Do I look like I don't care any less, for your brother and my best mate and for his wife and my other best friend?" he asked with contempt.

"Did you honestly think I wouldn't have given a thought to try and change what happened when I'm in possession of something that could give me that opportunity? Don't insult me," Harry whispered, regaining some semblance of control. "I thought you knew me better than that, Ginny."

"No, that's not what I meant, I'm so sorry," she whispered, crying openly. "I do, I know _you_… I know that you– I'm sorry, Harry, I didn't mean– It's just… you have a Time-Turner, I thought that–"

"I know…" Harry's anger deflated and as the manifestation of his inner storm came to a halt, he instantly felt guilty for snapping at her like that. "I'm sorry too," he apologized sincerely.

"Don't apologize, I'll feel like such a prat…"

"Okay," he chuckled, "I won't." Bringing Ginny to her feet, he took her place on the chair and brought her with him to sit on his lap. Still sniffling, she snuggled into him, muttered something about "stupid hormones" and breathed him in as Harry held her tightly against his chest (well, as tightly as one can hold their pregnant wife). "It doesn't function the way you think," he finally told her when a while had passed and Ginny had stopped sniffling altogether.

"Explain." Ginny lifted her head off his shoulder and stared at Harry.

"Well, McGonagall held onto this Time-Turner _illegally_," Harry pointed out, smiling wryly. Deciding he needed something to distract him, Harry busied his unoccupied hand with the therapeutic task of caressing Ginny's back.

"_Oh_…" Ginny smirked, eyes deceptively wide and innocent looking.

"Long story short; McGonagall turned in a phony Time-Turner to the Ministry and as she created the decoy, the original lost some of its powers," Harry quickly explained. "However, that loss kind of resulted in making the original Time-Turner more powerful and dangerous."

"How so?"

"It is very, very unstable… so I've been trying to find a way to stabilize its powers." Harry motioned to the volume on his desk and Ginny nodded as she glanced at it over her shoulder with a peculiar look.

"I see…" She mused, "So when I can't find you, you've been at the library with your nose buried in dusty old books?"

"Pretty much." Harry nodded. "And also going into the _Pensive _and sorting through memories."

She smirked mockingly and said, "Oh, but Hermione would be so proud!"

"Perhaps," Harry said, pouting and fighting a smile.

"There, there…" she soothed, smiling wryly and patting his head. There was a moment of thoughtful silence and then Ginny quietly asked, "So you _are_ planning on using it?"

"I don't know…" Harry admitted, frowning and staring far off.

"If you don't know," Ginny probed, "how come you've been doing so much research? I'd say you look like a man with a plan."

"I just–" Harry hesitated and shook his head, saying, "There's something about this whole thing that doesn't sit well with me, Gin. Honestly, I would like to avoid using it if at all possible. But I have this strange and nagging feeling…"

"What is it?" she asked quietly, searching his eyes.

"I have an idea of where I would go if I did use the Time-Turner," he admitted and Ginny stiffened in his lap.

"Where?" she asked tersely.

Gazing at her, Harry contemplated what could be running through his wife's head and coming up blank, he decided to ask instead of coming up with his own scenarios. "What's bothering you?"

"Nothing's bothering me," she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting.

"Gin…" he sighed, looking into her eyes and trying to coax her into speaking.

"You're making plans…" she began grudgingly, "but it seems like I'm not included in your plans."

"Is that what you think?" Harry asked, looking startled. "Anywhere I go you're going with me, Ginevra Molly Potter, and so is our son."

"Really?" Ginny asked, looking hopeful and uncertain. "You better not be lying to me, Harry James Potter. I was done waiting for you the day we married."

"I'm not." Harry received her message loud and clear. "Home is where you are Gin," he told her sincerely, "and where James Sirius Potter, our son, will one day learn about love and all the important things in life." Tracing his knuckles along her jaw, he added, "You are my wife and as my wife, your place is at my side as my place is at yours."

"Good," Ginny sniffed, trying to cover up just how happy and embarrassed she was by his reassurance and so, she couldn't meet his eyes. "Because I can't have a repeat of 1997, Harry. My stomach was constantly in knots, worrying about you and wondering if you were eating well or even alive… It was dreadful."

"I know and I swear to you Ginny," Harry promised, "no matter what, you won't be left behind."

Ginny nodded, looking smug and satisfied as Harry looked on amused. Right then Harry decided that Ron and Hermione would make it through this tragedy, maybe not whole but they would find the pieces they needed to put themselves back together within each other. As he thought this, Harry felt the burden on his shoulders lessen a bit. Hermione was a strong woman and Ron was devoted, first as a friend and then a husband to his wife, so Harry had no doubt that their bond would grow stronger yet.

"So what's stopping you from going back in time?" Ginny wanted to know.

"Motive." It was simple but it was the truth and quite a big issue. "At first, when I contemplated going back in time and changing the past, all my motives where… selfish ones," Harry admitted shamelessly. Somehow, he was sure that Ginny wouldn't think any less of him for thinking selfishly and would understand him in some level. After all, she was his equal and as such, deserved to hear the truth without Harry trying to mince it or sugarcoat it.

"Your parents?" she ventured a guess and as Harry looked into her eyes, he found no judgment there. Therefore, Harry nodded and allowed his wife to see him as just a man, who could also be vulnerable as well as petty. Besides, for all his titles and accomplishments, Ginny knew exactly whom she had married and understood that Harry was just a wizard –just Harry James Potter, and he was hers to hold and to cherish. If you asked Ginny, she wouldn't have Harry any other way.

"I thought of them and I thought of the war…" Ginny shivered and Harry cautiously tightened his hold on her hips. "I thought of Sirius…"

Harry closed his eyes as images from his memories turned nightmares flashed before his eyes and his heart quickened and his breathing became labored. So tenderly he could have cried at the feel of the gesture had he not been taken unawares, Harry felt Ginny's lips press against his own and suddenly, he could breathe again. Opening his eyes, Harry marveled at his wife and thanked her, resting his forehead against hers.

"I know…" she told him simply, quiet enough to not disturb the silence but loud enough for him to hear. "Tell me, what are your plans and thoughts?"

* * *

…...

* * *

Taking a shuddering breath, Harry told her about everything that had been cluttering his mind since he'd been in possession of the Time-Turner. He told her that he had revisited all of his memories of his "lessons" with Dumbledore during his sixth year and that he'd been constructing a timeline with the help of those memories and archives from the Ministry's impressive library.

When Ginny asked, he further explained what McGonagall had done in order to create the decoy Time-Turner and went into extensive detail. Explained the theory behind the process of Transmutation and everything else he had been learning about the subject on his own.

Ginny understood enough to conclude that McGonagall had made Harry very curious about Transmutation and thought she might join Harry in his research every once in a while, once he enlisted Hermione's help. It seemed like Harry wanted to find out what other uses Transmutation had and explore depths of how to apply physics potentially, if he somehow found a way to incorporate its methods into his plans. A plan that involved the use of an Arithmancy formula, diagrams, and a ton of theories…

"I want us to go back to the year 1926, if we ever come across the right motive," he told her.

"1926?" Ginny frowned, trying to work out what Harry found worthy of changing so far back. "Isn't that…?" Harry nodded solemnly. Ginny gaped at Harry, eyes wide and almost fearful. "_Tom_?"

"Yes, that was the year he was born."

"What do you intend to do?"

"Hopefully?" Harry shrugged. "I want to find Merope Gaunt, show her that she has a reason to live in her son, and hope to Merlin that Tom learns what love is from her, and doesn't become Voldemort." Looking at Ginny, Harry smiled impishly. "Love changes a man, you know? I'm sure it could change someone like Tom."

Slowly letting out a shuddering breath, Ginny stared at her husband and marveled at his bravery and calm disposition. Anyone would think that after everything had been said and done, Harry would hate the very mention of Tom Marvolo Riddle, or Voldemort. Instead, Harry thought of Tom with immense pity and sadness. Among many things, Ginny admired Harry for that.

After all, Ginny had hated Tom on principle after the episode with the Chamber of Secrets, even though she had no clear recollection of what had happened to her while at his mercy. All she had remembered was being scared of all the blanks she couldn't fill, the time she had lost and wouldn't have back, and how the Gryffindor in her had _hated_ the fact that she had been week enough to be scare to begin with and, in retribution, all her fears had turned to hate.

Until she got to truly know Harry with whom she thought she could identify and find a kindred spirit in because, surely, he had as much a reason to hate Voldemort as she had. However, that hadn't been the case at all.

Harry had hated what Tom had done to his family but pitied the man, and Ginny had been forced to reevaluate her feelings in regards to the monster that had plagued her nightmares. In the end, she had come to pity the man as well but that didn't mean she wanted to go hunting down his mother to reform him!

Still, somewhere deep within her, Ginny understood the way Harry's mind worked and agreed with his plan. Therefore, she encouraged him and told him that she supported him and would continue to support him because his plan was quite brilliant.

Besides, she would go to the very depths of Hell itself and fight through another war if it meant she got to be at Harry's side. If Harry wasn't beside her, she had no home to belong to, or return to, and no purpose.

"What would you consider the right kind of motive?" Ginny asked, not really expecting an answer.

"I don't know yet…" Harry said ominously, "but I have a feeling we'll find out soon enough."

"Then it'll be us against 1926… Merlin, we have _loads_ of research ahead of us… I think I better get started, don't you?"

"I think it would be best," Harry agreed, meeting Ginny's chagrined smile with his own impish one.

Mockingly, Ginny toasted under her breath and said, "To 1926!"

* * *

**...…**

**…...**

* * *

**_A/N: _**_Thank you for reading. Until next chapter –_Chapter Eight: **The Ender's Kiss**_._


	8. The Ender's Kiss

_**A/N:**__ For those of you that read the previous chapter the same day it was updated, I suggest you go back a chapter and re-read. For some reason, the chapter was uploaded incomplete and now I have fixed that issue. Otherwise, please read on and enjoy._

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******..….**

******..….**

* * *

**Harry Potter**

and the Malediction of the Deathly Hallows

By

_Amaterasu Kinesi_

* * *

Chapter Eight

**The Ender's Kiss**

* * *

**…...**

* * *

**_Wednesday – April 20, 2005_**

* * *

**...…**

* * *

It had been two weeks and a half since… and Hermione was simply going through the motions without giving herself time to think. Because if she stopped to think, her world would crumble and the dam would finally give way to uncontrollable tears. Hermione was of the opinion that she couldn't have that, she was grieving but she was still stronger than that and she was determined to function.

_Function. _That was what she told herself every morning as she showered, got dressed, prepared breakfast for her and Ron, ate, cleaned the table and dishes, bid her husband a good day, and Apparated or used the Floo network to get to work. Once at work, things got easier because she didn't have to think –she just did what was required of her without thinking about…

Well, Hermione didn't think. Because if she started thinking she would start blaming herself for what had happened and then, Hermione wouldn't be able to function. When Hermione had hinted at blaming herself, Ron had been righteously angry with her. But it wasn't just the blaming, she reminded herself. Unbidden, Hermione's thoughts took her back to two and a half weeks ago.

* * *

...…

* * *

Past

**_Saturday – April 2, 2005_**

* * *

**...…**

* * *

**7:18 a.m.**

"This is all my fault," Hermione cried inconsolable. "Because I'm– I'm a Mudblood!"

All the quiet conversation and sobbing going around Ron and Hermione in that instant ceased suddenly as a united gasp of incredulity echoed through the room from the mourners' gathered, followed by more sobbing and quiet outrage. As one, everyone but Ron and Hermione stood and left the room to leave husband and wife to discuss such delicate matters between themselves and in private.

As Ron stared intently at his wife, his face growing red with fury, the last of their combined family exited their room and he and his inconsolable wife were alone at last. With barely controlled anger, Ron took a deep breath and met Hermione's coffee brown eyes. Gazing at her husband's cerulean eyes, Hermione flinched and began to tremble, tears running freely down her cheeks once more.

"What did you just say, Hermione?" Ron asked with a quiet voice she wouldn't have associated with him before that day. For his part, Ron felt like he didn't know who Hermione was but he couldn't quite point that out to her because he wasn't feeling quite like himself either. "Would you care to repeat yourself? I'm afraid I might have misheard you."

"That it's my fault," she answered defiantly, chin jutting out and lower lip trembling, "be-because I'm a-a Mu-Mudblood!"

Looking at her husband's face, Hermione shrank in her bed as she attempted to distance herself from him and failed miserably. Ronald looked positively murderous after hearing her admission. "_Where_ in the bloody hell did you get that idea from?" Ron asked, voice trembling but not raised.

"I…" Hermione flinched, she almost preferred for Ron to yell at her instead if this calm she didn't know how to deal with. So far, Ron's anger was quite and controlled but filled the air around him with enough static to cause Hermione's hair follicles to Braille and every hair to stand on end. "That's what they'll–"

"What?" Ron interrupted, anger sipping into his tone for the first time. "That's what everyone will say?"

"Yes," she barely managed to whisper. Ashamed and unable to repeat herself, Hermione nodded and Ron's jaw tightened angrily as he battled with himself to not start yelling at his wife, given her fragile state of mind.

"Why? Because you are inferior to my _pure_ blood?" Ron spat bitterly. Hermione cringed and took a shuddering breath. As she tried to look away from her husband, Hermione realized she couldn't and found herself transfixed. Hermione shuddered. Never before had she seen Ronald so righteously angry. "Because your blood is _filthy_? So you are beneath me now, is that it?" he demanded.

"I– I– I don't–" Instantly, Hermione's tears dried as she stuttered through her words and came up short for anything to argue with, she felt as if she'd been slapped. Right that instant, Hermione simply wanted to hide from her husband's scrutiny so that he wouldn't witness her shame or see the pain his words caused.

"Is that what you think, honestly?" For the first time, Ron looked as equally hurt as he did angry and disgusted with her. "Is that how you think _I _see _you_," he asked quietly, voice a bitter rasp, "Hermione?"

"N-n-no!" Hermione gasped through her stuttering words, confused and near hysteria again but the tears wouldn't come again. She was so shocked and aghast that that was where Ron's mind had jumped. "No, I think you love me…" she whispered, trailing off uncertainly.

"You _think_," Ron asked softly, "or you _know_ that I love you?"

"I know, Ron," she whispered and began to sob again. There were those tears she had thought she'd run out of. "I _know_ that you love me…"

"Then stop trying to find someone to blame," Ron whispered, taking a hold of her chin and tilting her head up to meet his eyes. "Stop blaming yourself."

"But I…" Meeting his eyes, Hermione found Ron crying as he gazed at her with an unreadable expression.

"And never, ever call yourself a bloody Mudblood again," Ron asked of her. "Don't even _think _the word." Shaking his head, Ron interrupted whatever Hermione had been about to say. "Blood has never been an issue between us and never will be. We lost…" Ron swallowed thickly. "Fredrik wasn't your fault, or mine. He is as much your son as he is mine. Therefore, I lost him, too, you know…"

"I know, I know…" Moved by her husband's words and reassurance, ignoring the pain and dizziness the action caused, Hermione threw herself into his arms and apologized as Ron held on to her fiercely. Thinking it probably wouldn't be the last time she'd have to apologize for the duration of the days, weeks, months, and years to come, Hermione whispered, "I'm so sorry…"

Given the sound of evident sincerity in Ron's voice, Hermione fooled herself into believing his words for the time being. However, she still had that nagging insecurity probing at her at the back of her mind that consumed her thoughts with guilt. Because Hermione was beginning to believe what she had been told ever since she had stepped into this world by purebloods like Draco Malfoy and his father, that she was less than Ron deserved for a wife.

After all, she had been born with magic but she hadn't been born _into_ it like Ron had and that had to have been the dominating factor that had thrown off the equilibrium and stolen their day of joy. Hermione was sure of it. If not, then Hermione was sure that Fate didn't have a sense of humor and was downright cruel for taking the innocent life of their son.

* * *

…...

* * *

Present

**_Monday – April 25, 2005_**

* * *

**...…**

* * *

**5:45 p.m.**

Ronald Bilius Wesley was at a loss, just like he had been for almost a month, since he was now a father but no longer had a child to call his own or show for his newly acquired title. This fact seemed to hit him harder than usual today, with five days between him and the four-week anniversary of Fredrik's birth and death.

To make matters worse, his wife now went to bed in tears and awoke with fresh tears in her eyes in the mornings as well, something Hermione tried very had to conceal from Ron and for that matter had taken to sleeping with her back to him. Honestly, Hermione's tears didn't bother Ron at all.

No, Ron understood better than anyone why his wife cried and, sometimes, she wasn't the only one that went to bed in tears. No, Ron was concerned for his and Hermione's sanity and the strain their marriage was under. For far too long there had been conflicted silence in the Weasleys household as husband and wife skirted around each other and Ron thought he'd had just about enough.

It was Ron's prerogative, as Hermione's husband, to protect his wife from herself, because if she hadn't realized yet, Fredrik was also his son and Ron was mourning his loss as well. This was something that Hermione didn't exactly forget but seemed to not take to heart or completely ignore. At least that's what her actions seemed to say.

However, the more Ron tried to talk to her and address the issue, the harder Hermione tried to push her husband away. By now, Ron was growing twice as frustrated as he had been originally. Didn't Hermione understand that everything Ron did was done out of devotion? Ron had to wonder.

Ron needed his wife, her support, and he was going to make sure that Hermione realized that she needed her husband just as much, even it made him look like a complete git in the process. Because, in Ron's opinion, it wasn't fair that Hermione was shutting him out when he was the one reaching out.

More than anything, Ron wanted his wife's comfort and her touch. If Ron could have that, it would serve to reassure him that he was alive and that what was happening wasn't simply a dreadful nightmare he had yet to wake up from –even if that was the preferred alternative. Ron would do anything for the wedge that had formed between them the weeks following Fredrik's funeral to disappear or for it all to be just that, a nightmare he'd conjured up following a hard day's work.

Either way, there were more issues for them to deal with and Ron was dealing with enough wishful thinking to last him a lifetime. However, what troubled Ron the most was that he wasn't even sure if Hermione had believed him when he'd told her he didn't see an issue with her blood. Never had. But apparently it had been an issue with Hermione that was only now surfacing.

Needless to say, Ron was left feeling bereft of ways to tell Hermione not to dwell on that or reassure her that her worries were unfounded where their relationship was concerned. From where he was standing, it seemed that Hermione didn't and wouldn't believe in Ron if he tired.

Not any more. Somehow, she had gotten it into her head that it was her fault that their son had been born dead and, apparently, it had everything to do with her blood not being magical enough.

_Ridiculous! _Ron thought to himself as he stepped out of the fireplace and into his home kitchen. This was where it had happened, where their son had been conceived. With fond remembrance, Ron skimmed his fingertips along the polished wood of his diner table as ghost of a smile graced his lips for a fleeting moment.

Sighing, Ron shook himself out of his reverie and his shoulders became hunched with defeat. It had been a very long and exhausting day at work and Ron was about ready to drop. Instead, he opted for the next best thing and sank into one of the kitchen chairs at the diner table to bury his face in his hands and wait for Hermione to arrive. It was high time and Ron decided he and Hermione needed to have a talk.

Before he knew it, however, fifteen minutes had gone by and Ron was trembling and everything around him was rattling as his magic leaked out of him while he lost control. He had been suppressing so much for the sake of his wife during the last three weeks and Ron just couldn't cope any more. Nine months of waiting to meet his son gone in an instant…

The overhead lamp shattered around Ron and he was so wound up in his own turmoil that he didn't notice or care, didn't even lift his head out of his hands. The fire flared green again a few seconds later and out stepped Hermione Jean Weasley who was about to encounter her wake-up call in the form of her crumbling husband.

There was glass and blood everywhere and unbalanced magic was frizzling in the air like static, Hermione noticed the moment she took things in. She had already lost a son, she couldn't lose her husband too. How had she been so blind and selfish? Hermione wondered as her hands began to shake, growing clammy as the blood drained from her face. For a frightening moment, she feared Ron's job as an Auror had caught up to them and someone had waged war in her home.

"Ronald!" she cried, surprise, concern, and fear clawing at Hermione's broken heart as she rushed to Ron's side with the jagged shards of her heart lodged in her throat.

In the midst of the chaos, there, by their table at the kitchen sat Ron, her husband, with shards of glass from the overhead lamp scattered everywhere as he bled and the whole of their home shook with magical precipitation. Something within Hermione broke and fixed itself in that moment, when she called Ron's name over and over again and he didn't seem to hear her –_couldn't'_ seem to hear her.

Kneeling before her husband with hot tears streaming down her face, Hermione reached out with trembling hands to pry Ron into acknowledging her presence. Ignoring the broken glass and blood, Hermione wedged herself into his arms and embracing him, pressing and resting his ear against her chest tightly—right over her erratic heart.

This _has _to work, Hermione silently prayed.

Like rain clinging to her skin, Hermione felt Ron's precipitated magic reach out and stroke hers hungrily. It sought hers, probing tentatively, and reacted almost quizzically to the comforting familiarity it found within its equal and Hermione felt her own magical core respond in kind.

Only, Hermione's reacted in a controlled manner that slowly helped Ron regain a small measure of control at a time over his magic, thread by thread he pulled it inward, as he anchored himself to the sound of his wife's heartbeat. Waiting, Hermione held her breath and silently counted the minutes until Ron squeezed her hips to show awareness, and returned her desperate embrace in kind.

"You left me," Ron rasped as he closed his eyes to better listen to the sound he associated with solace, the beat of Hermione's heart. "You left me…" he repeated as Hermione trembled in his arms, running her fingers through his hair, and Ron felt the tangible manifestation of his sorrows trailing a wet path down his cheeks. "We're supposed to be in this _together_, 'Mione."

"I'm so sorry… I– I'm such a hypocrite."

Apologies spewed from Hermione's lips between sobs as she desperately clung to her husband and told him everything that came from her broken heart and Ron needed to hear in order to forgive her. Also, Hermione finally opened her heart to Ron's, displaying to him all her fears and insecurities, in the hopes that he would find a way to piece her back together.

This was her penance and who better to hear it than the man she loved and cherished unlike any other? Hermione mused.

"There's no need for apologies, 'Mione…" As he was wont to do, Ron surprised Hermione and told her that there was no question they'd find a way to piece each other; he explained that they just needed to do it together and they would find the pieces in each other. "Just, never shut me out again. Promise me."

In Ron's opinion, being left behind emotionally was far worse than if Hermione had packed up her bags and left, but he was willing to forgive her for her transgression because she'd already forgiven him for physically leaving her once. There was also the fact that Hermione was his to love and to cherish and he already did that enough to know that he wouldn't be able to function without her at his side, and Ron told her as much.

"I promise. I love and need you, Ron," she confessed and Hermione felt the yoke of her guilt lift off her shoulders. "More than you'll ever know." As the clattering around the embracing couple finally quieted and came to a halt with the admission of her words, Hermione felt Ron's tears wetting her blouse through her robes and she smiled for the first time in two and a half weeks. She was Home. "I can't get through this without you."

"You don't have to," Ron whispered hoarsely and pressed his lips to his wife's curved neck. "That's what I'm here for, to help you through this."

"I know. Sorry I didn't realize it sooner… I wasn't thinking."

"We'll get through this together," Ron assured her, kissing each of Hermione's trembling lids and then her cheeks.

"Mhmm, together," hummed Hermione and allowed herself to smile because she had been welcomed Home with warmth by the one person that matter the most to her, despite the fact that she had lost sight of that.

Honestly, Hermione thought as she pressed a gossamer kiss against Ron's tear-stained lips and lingered, we should have done this sooner. Ron and Hermione were a long way away from being okay but they were on their way…

"Together."

* * *

…...

* * *

**_Friday – April 29, 2005_**

* * *

**…...**

* * *

**9:52 p.m.**

Ron and Hermione were seated on the living room floor of their home, eating ice cream and chips and looking at the only pictures of their son that they had to remember him by. The pictures had been taken by a photographer at St. Mungo's and the pair treasured each one, but today had been the first time they had been able to bring themselves to look at them.

As expected, Ron and Hermione were gazing down at the pictures together with mirroring rueful smiles and tears that threatened to fall from their eyes. They had managed to keep their eyes dry up to now, only because they had smartly brought snacks for distraction, which had been Ron's idea.

However, as they gazed at the next set of pictures, the tears finally came. In the moving picture, Fredrik Gideon Weasley was respectively in the arms of his Granger grandparents, David and Monica, and then with his Weasley grandparents, Arthur and Molly. (Then each grandparent had their separate shots, in which they each had their individual picture taken with their grandson.)

On both sets of pictures, the grandparents were admiring the small, blue bundle in their arms with unmistaken revere and sadness. Their four sets of varying colored eyes mourning, but smiling as each grandparent introduced themselves to their grandson and said their goodbyes.

Then came the pictures with the uncles, aunts, and cousins…

Harry and Ginny, also his godparents, crying as inconsolably as the parents had been and talking in hushed voices to their nephew who would always have a special place in their hearts. Next to them in the picture was Teddy. When Teddy's picture had been captured, he had been standing by Harry and Ginny while crying and rubbing his knuckles against his eyes to try to stop the tears, as he said that he didn't understand and kissed Fredrik on his little hand, just like had seen Ginny do, and whispered a quivering 'I love you' as he burrowed into Harry's chest to hide his tears.

George and Angelina Weasley came after… then Bill and Fleur Weasley and their daughters Victoire and Dominique… Charlie Weasley… Percy and Audrey Weasley and their two young daughters Molly and Lucy Weasley… and in none of them was there a dry eye.

Soon after, Ron and Hermione were gazing at the family picture with them holding Fredrik at the center, their respective parents to either side of them, Harry and Ginny behind them, and behind Harry and Ginny came the rest of the Weasleys. It was the only picture in which everyone had managed not to tear up and so everyone was smiling at the camera. Fredrik looked like he was just snoozing with a smile on his lips…

Finally, the pictures of Ron and Hermione followed. In those, Ron and Hermione gazed down at their son Fredric, or Ron hugged both mother and son from behind, and each of them tried their best to smile as best they could for the camera. They each had individual shots as well, in those Ron or Hermione were depicted holding their son to their chest and kissing his brow or small fingers and sometimes caressing his face or pressing their foreheads to his.

It was as Hermione examined one of herself holding Fredrik and kissing his cheek that she observed something _curious_. Straining her eyes to look at the picture through her tears, Hermione blinked rapidly and drew the picture closer to her face as she tried to understand what she was seeing.

"Ron, what do you see here?" Hermione asked in a quivering voice and passed Ron the picture as he reached for it. "Right there, on Fredrik's cheek. Do you see it?"

"Yeah, I dunno," admitted Ron as he also stared at the picture through squinting eyes and with a quizzical brow. "It looks like… a shadow? Maybe…"

"Maybe we didn't notice and he had a birthmark?" Hermione mused aloud, dubious. She had spent so much time memorizing Fredrik's face in the hopes that she would never forget it that Hermione doubted she would have missed something like that.

"Perhaps…" Ron nodded as he continued to stare at the picture but he didn't look convinced. In fact, Ron had such misgivings about what he was seeing that he felt like his stomach had dropped out from right under him. Just like Hermione, he had taken his time to make sure he never forgot his son's face in years to come. "Except no one in my family has strange birthmarks… or yours, for that matter, 'Mione."

"Then what could it be?" Hermione fretted and as Ron felt her tremble against him, he put an arm around her shoulders and drew her effortlessly into his side.

"I think we've got ourselves a little project in our hands," murmured Ron.

For the first time, to her and Ron's knowledge, the idea of researching didn't appeal to Hermione at all and she was filled with such foreboding that she was desperately hoping it was all a great delusion. But try as she might, Hermione blinked and blinked and she still saw the same thing again and again, no matter how many times she tried to blink the image away.

As Ron and Hermione stared at the picture in question, the barely-there shadow disappeared as the photo restarted its loop from the point the photographer had captured the moment and then slowly reappeared just as a shadow seemed to flee… while the frame continued its loop and then restarted again.

Alarmed by that, Hermione asked, "Did you see that?" and she felt herself shiver.

"I did," Ron responded shakily and his arm around Hermione's shoulders tightened, for which she was grateful. Hermione was in desperate need of her husband's comfort. "There was a shadow just there and then…" –Ron trembled at the thought– "then it just sort of flickered out of sight… it's–"

"It's like he's been _marked_," Hermione interjected, voice hushed.

Decidedly, Ron nodded, looked at his wife like he wanted to apologize for something, and with rueful severity said, "We've got ourselves a project."

* * *

…...

* * *

**_Friday – May 6, 2005_**

* * *

**…...**

* * *

**10:52 p.m.**

"Hermione," Ron rasped, "I found it."

It took Ron and Hermione exactly a week and an hour to research the mark they had observed on their son's cheek.

"Let me see…"

"It's here," Ron mumbled. Hermione walked away from the bookshelf she had been aiming for and quickly retraced her steps back to Ron's side. It alarmed Hermione, just how pale Ron looked as he lifted his eyes to meet hers. Even his hands were shaking when he pushed the tome he had been pored over across the table to her.

"What tome is this?" Hermione asked, frowning. "This isn't one of ours…"

"It isn't," Ron agreed. Nodding, Hermione began to skim through the text and while hers eyes devoured the context on text, she used her forefinger as a guide to not lose her pale –the script was tiny. "I got it from the Ministry's library. In the Auror section."

"Ron, this is…" Hermione whispered as her eyes widened and the blush from her cheeks completely drained from her face.

"Blimey…" Glancing at her husband, Hermione found him chuckling darkly as he buried his face in his hands and nodded. "'Mione, this has to be some bloody joke. Otherwise, I think someone's taken this mickey much to far and placed us at its center."

Looking at the cover, Hermione read, "_Sors, et Fames, et Mors. Fate, Famine, and Death?_"Shakily, Hermione glanced over at Ron and carefully asked, "Ron, what made you grab this tome in particular? There are so many books in the Auror section…"

Curious, Hermione stared at Ron and watched him stiffen at the question. Glancing up at his wife, Ron fixed her with a look Hermione wasn't too familiar with but thought she could detect some signs of confusion and apprehension. Opening his mouth, Ron replied, "Look at the spine."

Obediently, Hermione did and she dropped the book with a hiss as if she'd just been burned. There, where the name of the author is usually written was the same mark they'd been researching. Grimacing, Ron nodded sympathetically at his wife. "But-but… how?" Hermione sputtered.

"I don't know…" Ron shook his head. "But you only read the first page. Keep reading."

Warily, Hermione nodded, took the tome, and continued reading… as she got to the third page, Hermione gasped, "_In Ender est Osculum?_"

"The Ender's Kiss," repeated Ronald sardonically, translating it into English.

"What does this mean?" Hermione's hand trembled as she skimmed over the words again, trying to find more information. Finding nothing, she proceeded to reading the index. There she found the chapter she had been reading under _Maledicta_. "This is under maledictions, Ron, what does _that_ mean?"

Ron took a shuddering breath as he looked away from Hermione and replied, "It means, according to that ancient tome, that our son was cursed."

Inhaling sharply, Hermione felt the sting of tears in her eyes as she began to tremble. "Who would curse our son?"

"Look at the bottom of the third page of the index."

"_Sacrificium…_" Hermione read tremulously. "A sacrifice for what?"

"That's our next project," Ron replied ominously and stood, walking away.

"Where are you going?"

"To see Harry." Ron glanced over his shoulder at Hermione and added, "Are you coming? Oh, and bring that book."

"But it's late…" Hermione argued as she took hold of the tome and followed.

"A Galleon says they're still up."

Shaking her head, despite herself, Hermione smiled and said, "You're on."

* * *

**…...**

* * *

**11:32 p.m.**

Meanwhile, at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Harry and Ginny were up at the moment because no matter how much Ginny tired, she just couldn't get comfortable in bed and as thus, couldn't get to sleep. Naturally, Harry had joined his wife under the guise of keeping an eye on her and had asked Ginny to join in his nightly routine, which they had been perfecting for the past month.

The fire in the kitchen of flared green and Harry and Ginny, who were seated around the kitchen table having a cup of hot chocolate and poring over their shared research in companionable silence, shared a smirk without glancing at each other. Only two people could be visiting the Potters' household at such a late hour and despite the lateness, the two didn't think there was anything to be alarmed about until they were proven otherwise.

The telling sound of two sets of steps reached Harry and Ginny's ears as the fire went back to normal and they continued poring over their volumes and tomes without sparing the pair that had appeared in their kitchen a glance.

"Nice night," greeted Harry, inking down a few things onto his spare piece of parchment, "Ron, Hermione?"

"Sorry to intrude," Hermione whispered and that's when Harry and Ginny heard the sniffles.

Alarmed, the two glanced up at their visitors with concern and simultaneously asked, "What's going on? Are you lot hurt?" and rose to their feet (Ginny needed a bit of help from Harry after two failed attempts). Rushing over, they looked over Ron and Hermione (who was holding a huge tome for some reason) critically.

"Harry," Ron rasped, side stepping his best mate and sank into a chair. "Do you know anything about _In Ender est Osculum?_"

"_In Ender_ what?" Harry asked, perplexed, as Ginny glanced quizzically from her husband to her brother for enlightenment.

Feeling a twinge of disappointment, Hermione answered, "The Ender's Kiss."

* * *

**...…**

**…...**

* * *

**_A/N: _**_Thought you guys should know that I've been going back to previous chapters and re-editing some minor errors and doing some extending._

_Thank you for reading. Until next chapter –_Chapter Nine: **Courtesy In the Face of The Master of Death**_._


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